


oh there you are, i've been looking for you

by iswawrites



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ancient Greece, Ancient History, Ancient Turkey, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, England (Country), F/M, Historical References, Mutual Pining, Pre-Independance India, Reincarnation, Romance, Soulmates, Tragic Romance, jonsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 125,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iswawrites/pseuds/iswawrites
Summary: Hands meet as they grab the apple. The flash of a picture. A figure waving at him from the shore.Finding your soulmate is an exquisite feeling, your heart is at finally ease, comfort seeping through your bones. Jon and Sansa find each other through countless lives but time is never so kind as to keep them together.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 59
Kudos: 154





	1. Sparta - Ancient Greece

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a random idea in the middle of the night and now we're here haha, I hope you enjoy it! It's set in many countries and will follow history events ( i am doing as much research to be accurate please don't hate me if i am not). I hope you don't mind suffering because hum, I am an awful person :)  
> Thank you to my dear friend @sansaravenclaw who beta this for me, thank you love, you're an absolute gem!

" _And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone._ "   
  


ANCIENT GREECE - SPARTA

  
  


Sansa is thirteen when she is appointed as one of Queen Helen's handmaidens. The Queen has been on Sparta for about a year, and Sansa remembers the day she arrived like it was yesterday. The parade for her arrival had been grand and word had spread days before that the King Menelaus had won the contest for Helen's hand after her abduction by the hero Theseus. Sansa had relished in this, forever a lover of tales of romance between heroes and princesses and monsters and for her, as she had stood amongst the crowd, along with her family, she had felt like she was witnessing one before her own eyes, and her heart had swelled. So when her Lord Father and Lady Mother, both acquaintances of the King, tells her that she and Robb are going to go and live the King and the Queen's palace, Sansa is ecstatic. She squeals, and jumps in joy, beaming and grinning and hugging both of parents and thanking them. She doesn't think about the pain of leaving them – no, not now, only after she realizes, after, when she settles in her small futon in her too quiet chambers, only then she realizes that she's not going to see her younger sister Arya and her younger brothers Brandon and Rickon soon – , she thinks about living in the palace, with the gardens, and meeting the Queen. Sansa has only glimpsed at her from afar, but everyone has said that she is beautiful, the most beautiful woman of all Greece. _I hope she likes me_ , Sansa thinks that night, _I hope she thinks I'm pretty too_.

The palace is wonderful and massive like a maze and Sansa admires the decorated walls and pillars and she thinks no sight will ever compare. A woman, older but Sansa can tell not by that much, tells her to follow her, breaking her out of her rêverie. She turns back to her brother quickly, and he's too looking at the palace and she suddenly is so grateful that she's sharing this with him, Robb, her big brother, her hero, her best friend, and she wants to jump in his arms and hold him, but she doesn't get to do that, so she just clears her throat, swallowing back her tears.

« I'll see you after ? »

Robb turns to her, and she sees something in his eyes , and she immediately knows what it is too. It's Robb, he's only 14, shy 15, and she sees what she feels in his his bright blue eyes, the same colors as hers. Awe. Gratitude. Fear.

« I'll come and find you, alright ? » He tells her and he grabs her hand, so small in his own, and he squeezes it hard and she squeezes back. She turns around and follows the older woman, and she tries to hold back the tears, she can't be crying just before she goes to meet the Queen, so she joins her hands, and lowers her gaze to them, trying to commit her brother's touch to memory until she sees him again.

«You'll see him when we all have supper tonight. » The woman leading her says. « He'll be busy with his first training with the Master of Arms but he'll join everyone for supper, as will you. »

Sansa hears her, but doesn't answer. She doesn't know what to say, frankly, and the woman must not think much of it, because she doesn't say another word and continues to guide her through a maze of halls and corridors. They reach an open area, a garden, and she spots a young woman, tall and slim, bending towards some of the bushes. She's not facing them, but Sansa sees the cascade of chestnut coloured hair down her back, falling in waves over a silk gown, a beautiful ivory colour, and Sansa thinks _wow_. The woman next to Sansa clears her throat.

« My Queen. » She calls.

Sansa had always thought people to exaggerate about the Queen's beauty, in her fleeting moments of realism, but she now understands that they were not. Beautiful hazel eyes, a perfect button nose, and her mouth inviting anyone to reach out and grab the lingering kiss there, even Sansa feels compelled. She doesn't seem her age however, she seems older, maybe it's the dress or the troubled events of her past creeping up on her as they tend to do, but it doesn't do anything to lessen the fact that she _must_ be the most beautiful woman in all Greece.

The Queen approaches them and she meets Sansa with a smile. Upon realizing that she's staring openly at her Majesty, Sansa lowers her gaze and curtsies very low.

« Your Grace. »

« Please, rise. » Helen says almost immediately. Sansa does. « What's your name ? »

« Sansa, Your Grace. »

« A beautiful name. And your age ? »

« Thirteen, Your Grace. »

« You're very tall. » The queen seems to examine her for a long time, and Sansa has never felt more scrutinized in her life. « Your hair is very pretty. »

Sansa dares to meet the queen's eyes, and there's something in them, hidden in those honey eyes, and Sansa can't quite pinpoint what it is yet but she tries a smile, hoping the mask of ice on the queen's face will fall. « Thank you, Your Grace, you're too kind.»

«I'd like to know how you do this style. I like it very much and I would like to learn. »

Sansa's eyes widen in surprise and she looked at the woman next to her, the witness to this exchange between her and the queen, in utter disbelief and is even more surprised when the woman nods. And Sansa feels like a child, a younger one at least, seeking approval from anyone, but then she turns back towards Helen and she bows her head. « It would be an honor for me to show you, my Queen. »

The Queen smiles and grabs her hand in hers. « Come, I'd like to show you the garden, and together we can help pick the flowers for the feast for my nameday.»

~ ~

The nameday of the Queen is the second she is going to spend in the palace, and the king has expressed great desire at making an even bigger affair as the first one. Jon hadn't witnessed the first one, but seeing all the servants and cooks and handmaidens run around the palace, he can only imagine how much of a grand affair it had been. He sits back on his seat, as he looks around the room, scanning the crowd. Sometimes, he forgets he isn't training and that the laws of a battlefield don't apply for a feast. He doesn't have to look at every entrance and make sure that they were clear so if an accident happens, the queen and king could be escorted out shortly. He has one job today, Manolis had told him,to have fun and enjoy himself and stop brooding, and Jon listens to his Master of Arms. So he is going to actually try and have fun. For real.

Everyone gets seated and Jon's gaze catch a glimpse of red hair. He's never seen anyone with red hair before, and the sight is grabbing his attention. He cranes his neck, trying to get a better glimpse of the girl, of her face, but she turns away and he sees her as she bends down towards the queen's ear and then goes off one door. Suddenly, Jon needs to follow her, his whole body screams at him to jump, go, run after her, and Jon doesn't know why but his body is moving on instinct and he's rising in his chair, but a hand on his arm stops him.

« What are you doing ? » Robb says, alert in his eyes. « The King is about to speak. »

«I- » Jon doesn't know how to explain, doesn't know how to put into words what came over him, he lets himself be pushed back in his seat by Robb's strong hand, but his grey eyes stay on the door the red haired girl exited from.

« My people! » Menelaus starts with a booming voice, Helen sitting by his side, looking at her husband with a smile, « Today is a blessed day, for it is today that my beloved, my queen, Helen was brought into this world. A blessed day indeed for our world is brighter each day you grace us with a smile, my queen. I pray the Gods that all your namedays are spent here, on the lands of Sparta where our lives will always be in service to you! To Helen! »

The crowd roars and Jon lifts his cup in unison, but the young boy can't find himself to repeat the words. His mind is still focused on the red haired girl, his eyes still locked on the door she left by. He barely registers anything the queen says, he doesn't really care. He wants to see the red haired girl again; he doesn't know why. He doesn't know her, and maybe that's why. Yes, that's it, he's just curious, and the small tingling in his stomach is just curiosity. Still, his eyes still remain focused on the door. It's only when Robb nudges him with his arm that Jon tears his eyes away.

« What? » Jon snaps.

« Look, there's my sister! » Robb exclaims.

« I don't really car- » Jon stops as he turns towards back the crowd, his eyes locked on her. _Her_ . The red haired girl. She is dancing, with grace, her body doing steps he had never seen before, but he doesn't care, he doesn't care, he just knows he never wants to _not_ see her. The music plays and the crowd cheers as the girls, Helen's handmaids, finish the dance, but Jon only has her eyes for her. The way she moves, the way her hair seems to float around her as she lifts her arms and turns, the way the smile on her lips light up her whole face. And it's a strange feeling, watching her and being so enticed with her, and all of his insides are exploding, but it's peaceful. As if air has been injected into every cell in his body and somehow, it's peaceful. The more he watches her, this unknown red-haired girl, the more at ease he feels.

« And now, my beautiful girls, grab a partner and join the king and me as we dance! » Jon hears the voice of the queen in the background, but it's far away, so far away from him, and he only understands when the girl's arms fall back to her sides, and she's walking, no floating, to him. Unless it's not really him but Robb she's walking to, and later he'll lie and say his heart didn't sink when he realized. But, call it fate, or just the Goddess Aphrodite blessing him tonight, but a brunette girl appears in front of Robb and grabs his hand before the red haired girl reaches him. He watches as she realizes this and how her eyes fall to the floor, as he sees Robb shoot her an apologetic look as he's been taken away by the brunette. And then... oh. _oh_. She is Robb's sister. Robb had mentioned her the first time they had met, at the training yard. Jon had never met her though, training kept them busy these days, but he has heard about her from Robb.

He turns back to her and her eyes are on him, and he hadn't been able to see their color, but this close, he sees they're a beautiful blue, not the same as Robb's, but a bright one nonetheless. With his gaze on her, he suddenly feels embarrassed ; he has been watching her for the past fifteen minutes, quite openly, and now, she is watching him, and he doesn't know what to do with himself. And maybe that's why, when she grabs his hand and leads her to the center of the room with everyone, he lets her. They reach everyone and she turns, facing him, her hand still holding his, her soft eyes finding his easily, and drowning into those eyes, well, that's easy too for Jon.

The music starts again and he suddenly realizes what they're about to do. And the fact that he doesn't know what he is supposed to.

« I don't know the dance. » He blurts out to her, and it's not exactly the first words he had wanted to say to her.

« Just follow me. » She says in the softest voice he's ever heard.

_Yes_ , he'd follow her, he'd follow her to the ends of the world. He'd follow her anywhere, anywhere she would lead him. He'd follow her anywhere as long as she would keep her hand in his. He follows her lead into the dance, and she's watching him still, and the embarrassment is back and he doesn't know why he feels all shy and coy. He's 15, he's half a man grown, he's not shy or coy, he is brave and confident. He just wishes his heart knew that. His heart who seems to be keen on skipping a few beats each time his dance partner does a turn or shoots a bright smile his way. He doesn't know how or what is happening to him but he doesn't hate it, he doesn't hate the way he finds himself smiling and laughing as he holds her hand, watching her spin and spin and spin again and again and Jon doesn't think he's ever been happier.

The music stops, and everyone claps but Jon keeps the girl's hand in his and she doesn't pull it away – and somehow that stirs something in him. He's about to speak, say something, anything, he almost wants to ask her to come with him so they can get married. Anything, really; anything that allows him to keep his hand in hers. He opens his mouth to speak, but he's interrupted by the queen's own voice congratulating everyone and suddenly the same brunette that danced with Robb drags the red haired girl away from Jon. Her hand slip from his, and he suddenly feels cold, he's frozen in his place and he can't move as he watches her leave his side. Jon wants to reach out, he wants to reach out and grab her hand again, but she's too far away, and he's too stunned by everything to act. It's unlike him, but this whole evening is an unlikely experience for him, so it's not a surprise. His feet move finally, after some time, and he starts walking back to his seat, not before casting a glance at the girl. And he can't help but smile as he catches her looking back at him. It does things to his heart that he will never admit, never in a million years. Or probably, just to _her_. Only her.

« Sansa, come on, we have to bring the other gifts! » The brunette says and the red haired girl, Sansa, keeps her eyes on him for a second more before turning away and rushes off with the other girl.

Sansa.

_Sansa_.

He tastes the name on his lips, the soft sound of it rolling off his tongue as he whispers under his breath. It's still there when he sits back next to Robb. Robb, Sansa's brother.

«How did you like that dance, Jon ? » He asks and Jon feels the heat on his cheeks rising. He doesn't know what to answer, doesn't know what to say. He's only known the boy for a couple of days, doesn't know much about him. He only knows that Robb is 14, he appears to be very skilled with a sword, he's to train to join Menelaus' forces. Robb has a sister, Sansa, and Jon wants to ask, he wants to know everything there is to know about Sansa. But he doesn't ask the burning questions on his lips, he keeps them to himself. And when he goes to bed that night, hours after the feast ended and the last glimpse of Sansa had been when the Queen had retreated to her chambers, he thinks about the way they danced together, he thinks about the look she arbored when she had first taken his hand, he thinks about her blue eyes on him and they had not left him. He thinks about her smile and how warm it had made him feel inside. He thinks about how he liked holding her small hand in his, he thinks about how she hadn't let go of his hand immediately as the dance had resumed. But most importantly, he thinks about the last glance she had sent him as she had followed after the queen, and the small smile she had shown as she realized he was looking at her too.

~ ~

Sansa isn't nervous these days. She's doing good as handmaiden of the queen, she knows. She braids her hair, helps her getting dressed and makes sure that her every need is met and that the queen never has to wait more than she should. She is doing a good job, and she was fulfilling it very well, until she had reached the training courtyard where the King was training some of the new recruits, including her brother. And Jon.

_Jon_.

Sansa will probably never admit to anyone out loud how much she had thought about Jon in the two weeks that had followed the feast for the queen's nameday. For days, her skin burned where he had held her, her hands, her forearm, her waist, for days his touch remained on her, long after she bathed, and perfumed her skin, she could still feel him. And then, when the touch had somehow faded, to her dismay, she had tried to seek him, try to find out where he was in the palace, and that had proven to be a failure as she hadn't found him. And now, after days of stopping to find him in the corridors, here he is. She thinks he looks glorious, all in armour, a sword in his hand and she thinks he looks like a hero

« What is it, child ? » The King addresses her and breaks her train of thoughts.

She remembers her manners and bows towards her king. « Your Grace, Lady Helen requests an audience with you and the lords in the council room. »

« Thank you, child. » Menelaus says and with a nod towards the Lords, they leave the courtyard and Sansa is left not knowing what to do with herself. She's suddenly very much aware of all the boys in the courtyard looking at her. A silence settles in the space and Sansa wishes the earth would open up and swallow her whole. She hears shuffling and looks up; her brother Robb and Jon and another boy that Sansa has never seen are walking towards her. She sees the smile on her brother's face and knows he did this to ease the tension and she loves her brother then, her Robb, always so clever and so strong, and sometimes Sansa wishes she could be as brave as him.

«Sansa ! » Robb beams as he nears her and she doesn't have to wait for his arms to be fully open for her to sink in the embrace he's offering. He still smells that sweet fragrance of his, sandalwood and seasalt and she realizes she's missed it so much. He releases her shortly and then step aside for her to meet the young men accompanying him. « Please meet Theon, son of Balor Greyjoy, the warden of Zacynthus. And Jon, an orphan taken in by Menelaus himself, but I do believe you two know each other already... »

Robb's eyes turn to his sister in a look that wants to be teasing and Sansa tries to fight the blush on her cheeks, and she tries a glance towards Jon. She's surprised to find him looking straight at his feet, not even raising his head at her brother's taunts. Shaking her head, she turns to Theon.

« It's my pleasure, Theon. I hope my brother is kind to you. »

« Not at all! » Theon laughs , and Robb smirks. « Your brother proves to be quite the swordsman, even at 14. He's on his way to outplay everyone here ! »

« Everyone except Jon, » Robb scoffs, but he's not upset or frustrated Sansa notices, « We're probably at the tie for the first place. »

Sansa looks at Jon, who keeps his eyes firmly on the ground, even as Robb mentions him. It saddens her to think that he wouldn't even bother to look at her after they had danced together and had a wonderful time. Her heart shatters slightly at the thought but she focuses her gaze on her brother's bright face and offers a proud smile. «Well, you have always proven to be the best at everything and I am sure this matter won't be the exception. Now if you will excuse me, I must attend to my duties. »

She squeezes her brother's arm shortly before bowing her head to them, and makes a quick exit. She pretends it doesn't hurt not to look back at them, at Jon, to not meet his eyes, those eyes she missed so much. But she continues to walk ahead, gathering her strength, telling herself that she is Robb's sister and if he is brave, then she can be brave too, if not on a battlefield, then matters as small as heartbreaking should be fine too.

Every week, they were allowed to go to the market and buy something for themselves. The queen had insisted on this, Sansa finds out by Jeyne and the King had agreed after seeing how joyful it made the people. Sansa loved those little outings, she loved picking out fabrics and pearls from other cities and fragrances from across the sea. She loved to sew, to make something out of her own hands, and she loved to gather little elements that would later be added to that one particular piece and make it oh so special. Sometimes, Queen Helen and King Menelaus would join their little party, the young soon-to-be soldiers joining the young handmaids. Sansa loved when they did, because that means she could see Robb and spend a few hours with him, and she lived for these moments. She doesn't see much of her brother in the palace, as he's always training and she's always with the queen, but then, at the market, as he grabs a raw fish with his bare hands and shoves it in her face, she feels like she's ten again, and the laugh erupting from her chest is loud and not very ladylike but she couldn't care less. She is happy. Jeyne too, it seems, as she and Robb appear to be quite fond of eachother. Sansa smiles knowing her friend does have a soft spot for her brother, having shortcutted her to dance with him during the feast so many weeks ago already. Gosh, it's been so long since they've arrived at the palace, so long since they've seen their parents and Arya and Bran and little Rickon. Sansa wonders how they are, if they miss her, if they think about her; she surely does. She shakes her head and sees Jon a few steps behind, looking at a miniature spinning wheel. She turns around before he can notice her staring, and moves along. They hadn't said a word to each other, since that afternoon in the courtyard, and even then she thinks, he hadn't looked at her. In her mind, she pretends it doesn't mean anything, that she's immune to it all, and that she's strong and brave and that a thirteen year old handmaiden to the queen has more to worry about than a stupid boy.

They pass the pastry area of the market and Sansa already knows she should have stayed back. She bites her lip as she watches Jeyne and Theon drool over the pastries and Robb rolls his eyes at them. Looking over the display of sugary treats, Sansa feels her stomach churn. Immediately, she notices the lemoncakes and almost regret not having enough money to buy one. She wishes she had been smarter but, she had bought a few bands of silk to make headbands for the queen and the girls and a leather strip that she didn't have any plans for yet but she will find something, she always does. But buying all these fabrics means no more money for a treat and it saddens her. But she doesn't say a word, she only stares at the lemon cakes long enough that she can taste them in her mouth and then walks away, back to the main party where the rest of the handmaids are.

At supper, she's sitting with Jeyne, and they were joking about how Myranda and Jeyne had leapt at the sight of a beehive, not caring about the delicious product it contained, the honey. Then, they hadn't laughed but now, it seems like the funniest thing. The girls are tired and the cup of wine they have aren't helpful. Sansa is still giggling, when she sees Jon circling around their table, making his way towards ... her ?

« Lady Sansa. » He speaks, after clearing his throat. He's standing up and she's sitting down and she feels so small and when he speaks her name, in a soft, gentle tone that captivates her and his grey eyes looking so dark right now, she feels like a prey about to have a trap close in on her.

She's looking at him, her eyes completely fixated on his, and for a second, or a minute, or an hour, neither of them speaks and Sansa feels as if she's floating on a cloud as his eyes seem to pierce her entire being, and it's not anything she has ever felt before. It's unknown to her, and it's always around Jon. Always him.

« What is this, Jon ? » Myranda asks, and Sansa is suddenly brought to reality, where she is, in the dining hall with the lords and the king and the queen and and they're having a supper and Jon is standing there so close to her and his eyes shift to Myranda for a brief second before coming back to her, and the sigh that her heart makes in her chest is one she's never felt either.

Jon must remember what he is doing there thanks to Myranda's question because he then extends a box made out of cardboard paper she hadn't noticed he was holding before. Jon seems to not be able to stand still, shifting his weight from one leg to another, and she wonders what the box is for.

« This.. hum.. this is for you. I huh.. I saw you at the-.. » He mumbles and Sansa feels her heart beating ringing in his ears. He bought something for _her_ ? He...made _her_ a gift ? She slowly takes the box out of his hand, and that's when she realizes he's shaking, for the box trembles slightly before she takes it, and how he clenches his hands into fists and hides them behind his back. « I hope you like it. Goodnight, my Lady. »

With a quick bow to her and one for her friends, Jon hurries out of her sight and she can feel his fragrance lingering in the air he stood in. All memory of him is the cardboard box in her hands, and the feel of his eyes on her. That will never leave her, she thinks – and she doesn't want it to.

« What's in it the box ? » Jeyne asks.

Sansa inhales some air before she opens the box. She doesn't know what she had expected but she doesn't think anything could have brought her as much joy as this right now. It's the smell that hits her first as she opens the box and immediately a smile breaks out on her face, and she feels tears threatening to fall, and it's only with sheer will that she doesn't let them, but she could. Oh, how she could. She raises her head and immediately turns to where Jon is sitting next to her brother but she doesn't see him there, the seat vacant. She searches around the room, but she doesn't see him anymore. Has he left ? She wants to thank him, she wants to hold his hands and squeeze them and she wants to grab his face and pepper kisses all over it and-

She catches herself mid-thought and prays no one can hear what she's thinking. She clears her throat and tries to compose herself, keeping the box on her lap, one hand over it, saving the sweet sour taste of the lemon cake for later.

~ ~

When the news come of a raid in a city by the sea by pirates and the King's help is required to fight them off, Jon thinks this is it. This is his chance to prove who he is, who he can be. And when the King summons the trainees in the courtyard, Jon's chest fills with pride when Menelaus puts his hand on his shoulder, choosing him. Jon is not a crier, very much likes to keep his emotions for himself, but right then , his eyes fill with tears and he thinks he could just cry, the opinions of the other boys be damned. He doesn't though, instead he turns to Robb who is smiling so brightly, and he turns to Jon too, and they're both smiling to each other, because they're friends and they're going to be in this together and for the first time in his life, Jon is not alone.

« I have to tell Sansa. » Robb says, his smile dropping and Jon's heart sinks.

Sansa. Gods, Sansa. The words reach Jon and he realizes he's going to have to leave, and he's going to be fighting and he doesn't know if he'll come back. Anything could happen in a raid. He remembers the first year he had been in the palace, he had been nine and the King Menelaus had gone on a raid too, and he had taken his forces with him, and Jon remembers how they had come back two weeks later and one of the men, the best of the forces, had been gravely injured and died shortly after their return. Jon doesn't want that. He doesn't want to die, not when he is only fifteen, not when he is just a boy, not when he just found friends and possibly a girl he likes.

He doesn't have time to dwell on it, however, the men are already making preparations and Robb and Jon are still staring at each other, and Jon sees the nerves in his friend's eyes and it breaks his heart, because Robb is always so bright and brave and confident and already such a leader at his young age. So Jon puts a hand on his shoulder and tells himself that he can be brave for both of them.

« We'll go find her, alright ? » And Robb nods at him, and together they set off, side by side, both nervous, but both of them hiding it as best as they can.

They find Sansa in one of the corridors, amongst the running handmaids and servants. The whole palace seems to be running, making preparations for the forces to leave. When they see her, Robb doesn't wait any second. He calls her name and runs to her and she meets him halfway and Jon almost feels jealous, how he wishes he could also just call her name and run to her and keep her in his arms and never leave. Wishful thinking truly, and it's never gotten him anywhere. He feels out of place, standing there, next to Sansa and Robb as they embraced, he tries to avert his eyes, not wanting to intrude, but then the siblings finally break and Sansa's eyes are on him. He can't explain, he can't explain how funny it is, when she looks at him how his heart stops beating so fast and how he finally is able to breathe. How he's finally at ease.

« Is it true, then ? » She asks and her voice is filled with tears. « You're joining the forces ? »

Robb nods, and Jon does too, a beat later but quickly stops himself. « We are. » Robb says, and Jon knows he's trying to be brave, notices how he tries to stand a bit taller, trying to show how strong he is, and that's why Jon likes Robb, he thinks. How he always tries to protect everyone from fear, even when the boy himself is scared. « We're leaving shortly, and we don't know when we'll be back. »

Jon sees how Sansa reacts to the words, fear seeping out of her in waves, he notices how she's shaking and he's overwhelmed with the want of wrapping her in his arms and reassure her, but he can't, so he settles for the next best thing. « The last raid only lasted two weeks. The King is very capable on the field. On his orders, we will be successful in no time. Your brother will come back soon. » He doesn't tell her about the dead soldier, how he was the best and yet, he still died.

« I will pray for your safe return then. » Sansa says. « Both of you. »

Jon is about to talk, tell her that he's not worthy of being in her prayers but he doesn't get to do so. One of the other trainees, Pavlos, finds them and he doesn't bother to bow to Sansa and Jon sees this and he wants to tell Pavlos that he should, that he has to, but he can't because Pavlos is already talking.

« We need to go, they're taking the armors and arms and charging the carts! What are you doing here? You need to go and get your swords! » He doesn't even wait for them to answer before he leaves as quickly as he has arrived.

« You should go. » Sansa says, and she's pressing her brother's hand in hers, and Robb closes the distance between them and hugs her quickly before pressing a strong kiss to her red hair.

« I'll be back in no-time, alright ? » He tells her and she nods. « You take care of yourself while I'm away. »

She nods again and Robb presses her hand once more before letting go and Jon is about to follow him when Sansa calls his name. He turns to her and sees how her hands are fidgeting and she quickly glances at Robb, and Jon doesn't tear his eyes away from Sansa but he hears his friend's steps retreating away from them.

« Sansa... » He whispers.

She stares back at Jon and he's not sure what to do, he doesn't know why she called him back. He had just wanted to join Robb in saying goodbye to his sister because he is a good friend. His mission had been simple, and now...

He watches as she takes a piece of silk around her wrist and unties it. He watches her delicate fingers, he watches as she carefully but hastily does it, and it's only when she steps closer that he understands. She grabs his left hand and proceeds to tie the silk around his own wrist. He lets her, his eyes still on her face as hers are focused solely on the task she's set to do.

«I'd like to have it back. » Sansa whispers and he realizes how close they are, how close she's standing, how he can feel her breath on his cheek, and how she can see how her eyes are glossy with unshed tears. She looks up at him then, her blue eyes set on his grey ones. « Promise me you'll take care of my brother, promise me you will come back. _Both of you._ »

He grabs her hand with whom she has tied the silk and press his lips to her knuckles softly. « I swear on my life. » She stares at him as he speaks, and realization hits him and it throws him off balance almost but she squeezes his hand softly, a gentle press and it anchors him to earth, making the realization only so present. It hits him like he’s been struck by lightning, and it shakes him to the chore, and he holds onto Sansa’s hands like a lifeline so his legs don’t give out underneath him. 

And with that, he's off and his fingers burn where her hand was and he can still feel the warmth of her hand against his lips and he takes everything in him to not turn around, grab her and go away and leave this palace and everything behind. But he doesn't. He's a man of the King's forces. He's about to go on his first ever raid. He is fifteen and he is capable of doing this. And he will come back. He will fight, besides Robb and he will make sure Sansa's brother gets back alive and in one piece. He will, he will, he will, the words a chant in his mind, long after he's left Sansa's side and mounted his horse.

  
  


The raid ends up lasting more than five months. The pirates prove to be quite the ones for pillages and when they arrive to the city they first raided, they're mostly gone, and the King says they have to stop them before they reach the next one, but they don't. And they keep following their trace for months before finally managing to fight off the pirates just north of the city Elis. During the battle, the silk is torn off of him by a pirate and Jon sees red then. He drives his sword through the man in front of him, blood spilling out like an open tap, and the older man looks at Jon with surprised eyes as he sinks to the floor. Jon doesn't care, he gathers the remaining fabric off the floor before the blood gets to it. With a sigh, he puts it in the space between his belt and sword. He doesn't glance at the man on the floor as he walks away. Jon fights and fights and by the end of it, there's blood on his sword, on him, his face, his hands. He searches frantically for Robb amongst the bloody and muddy chaos of the fight, and when he finds him, he embraces the teenager, not caring that he's more bloody than him. He just cares that he's alive, and in one piece and he thinks of Sansa, and the promise he has made to her.

It takes them a month to get back to Sparta, and when Jon catches the familiar sight of the palace in his sight, he's filled with happiness. He mustn't be the only one, because then the whole party seems to walk faster, the King leading them on his white horse, and when they reach the palace, Queen Helen is here to meet them, and at her sight, the King jumps off his horse and goes to meet his young wife and embraces her. Jon observes the scene, thinking this must be a nice feeling to see your beloved after so long. With this in mind, he looks around and doesn't see the familiar face he's been dreaming of for months, and takes his leave. He scouts around the palace, looking in the kitchens, the rooms, the gardens, and when he finds her, she's plucking flowers and putting them in the basket and she is not aware of his presence, and he's too stunned of seeing her, finally, after so long that he doesn't find himself to speak up. He doesn't want to break this wonderful scene in front of him, she's looking so beautiful and peaceful and he can only stares as her hair looks like copper in the sunset light. It's a nice contrast against her light green dress and he thinks he just might go down on one knee and ask her to marry him right then and there. She looks sad though, her movements are slow and mechanical as she picks the small flowers, and Jon wants to reach out and soothe her skin and bring a smile back on her face.

He's not moving, but maybe it's because he's been staring at her for a few minutes – or a few hours even, he doesn't know, he just knows he never wants to stop – but she turns around, and she sees him and Jon doesn't miss the way her face seems to unclench at the sight of him. She rises, her eyes still on him, and he watches, still unable to move. But then.

But then she moves, and she runs towards him and he meets her halfway, like he has wanted to, six months ago, like he's dreamed of during those six months and she flings her arms around him in force, and he wraps his own around her in equal force. And by the Gods, _this_ . This is probably as close as he's going to get to heaven. He breathes her in, and she smells of flowers and sunlight and lavender and it's his new favourite scent, and he thinks about the fact that he must smell pretty bad after all the days spent on the road and he's all dirty from traveling, he's still carrying his sword and mud is still in the lines of his palms and it must stain her pretty dress but she only brings him closer, tightens her grip around him and gods. _Gods, take him. Take him now, because nothing is ever going to compare to this,_ he thinks.

They have to part at some point however, even though Jon would have loved to keep her in his embrace forever. She looks at him and he's finally able to take a good look at her, and his hands are still on her waist and he thinks it could be inappropriate but she's not moving out of his embrace, so he keeps them there.

« You came back. » Sansa whispers and her eyes are teary but he can tell they're happy.

« I swore it, didn't I ? » He answers and he means to sound confident and he hopes he does, he hopes she can’t hear the nerves in his voice.

She smiles at him, and he steps away, lowering his eyes because he doesn't want her to notice how badly he wants to kiss her, and if he's not looking at her face, then maybe the feeling will go away. He takes that opportunity to take the small piece of silk tugged against his hip and holds it up.

« It got torn off, I'm sorry. » He apologizes and she chuckles.

« It's alright. » Sansa says. « At least, you're here. »

He smiles back and she returns it with one of her own, but it disappears quickly. « Is Robb okay ? Where is he ? » Her hands leave him and he lets his hands drop too, because yes, he realizes, it's highly inappropriate, and he shouldn't be here, he should be with the boys and the master of arms, handing out his sword and armor and he should have let Robb come and find her first. He should have, and he realizes how bad this looks.

He clears his throat and nods. « He's alright, he's probably with the rest of the boys now. » He hopes Sansa doesn't notice how uncomfortable he suddenly is. His hands are sweating at his sides and he clenches them into fists. He also hopes she doesn't comment on the fact that he is here and not her brother, that the first thing he has done when he came back is finding her, while her brother actually followed protocol. But again, wishful thinking.

« Then, why aren't you there ? » Sansa asks.

Jon looks up, finding her eyes and she's looking at him with something he can't describe. No one has ever looked at him like this before, no one has ever looked at him with...he doesn't know what it is, but he likes it when Sansa looks at him that way. So he takes a leap of faith and he jumps.

«I needed to see you. » And it's only a whisper because he doesn't trust his voice in that moment and he feels so small, like he's nine again and the master of arms has found him at the market for the first time, starving and dirty and afraid.

Sansa smiles at his words, and it grows, and it's a bright and a happy one, and he smiles back because he jumps and she catches him. And it hits him, as she looks at him with those bright blue eyes, as his heart fills with growing love with every second, he knows, he's home.

~ ~

Weeks and months and years pass and Sansa finds herself spending more time with Jon. She doesn't know how to explain it, but after the six long months they spend away from each other, she never wants to be away from him ever again. She remembers when he had sought her out right as they had come back, and how happy she had been when she saw him. Afterwards her reunion with Robb had been tear-filled but she thinks Jeyne was probably happier than she had been at seeing Robb again. These days, these two seem inseparable. If he's not training or attending to his duties, then he can be found lurking somewhere with Jeyne, and Sansa smiles at the thought, because in honesty, Jon is the same with her. Everyday, usually after supper, after she attends to the queen, she always finds him waiting for him, leaning against the wall, and he always has something for her. A flower, a lemon cake that they can share, once he surprised her with some fabric. _I know you love sewing_ , he had said, simply, like he was talking about the weather, and she had wanted to cry then but she hadn't, only squeezed his forearm and thanked him.

Tonight, she's the one who has a gift for him. He's been feeling sad for a few days now and she doesn't know why and in an effort to cheer him up, she has sown a new sword belt for him and embroidered his name on it. She has put the gift in a wooden box she found at the market yesterday, and it has cost her so much, because she knows it'll be worth it.

As always, she finds him leaning against a wall, and as always, the second he sees her, a smile crosses his face and she skips to him, and as always, he offers a flower, and she takes it.

« Thank you. I have something for you too. » She says and he frowns at her words. She grabs his hands and leads him to her private chambers. In the three years they've known each other, he's never been in her chambers. It's not appropriate and there has never been a reason for it before. But tonight, she takes him there and she opens the door, about to go in, but he stops, tugging on her hand. His eyes question her and she knows how it must look but she pulls him in the room regardless.

She lets go of his hand, to get the wooden box near her small bed, and brings it to him. She extends it towards him. « There. » She says and she suddenly feels very shy and embarrassed. But she tries to keep her ground, stand tall and be brave.

He takes the box from her and looks at it, before opening it. She watches him, holding her breath as he opens the box and takes in her gift. He takes the belt in his hands and Sansa grabs the box back, and puts it away. She turns back to him and stares while he looks at the belt and he examines it with precision and care and Sansa can hear her heartbeat in her ears. He raises his eyes towards her.

«You made this...for me ? » He asks, and his voice shows disbelief, and Sansa's heart breaks at the sound of it. She nods, and his eyes go back to the belt and he traces the embroidery and then his eyes are on her again. « Thank you, Sansa. »

She smiles at him from where she's standing, letting out the breath she was holding. He crosses the space between them and takes her hand in his. He brings it to his lips, and drops a kiss on her knuckles. « Thank you. » He repeats against her skin.

She guides her fingers to his jaw and his fingers don't leave hers, and he leans into the touch freely, letting himself go against her skin. She lets her hand brush against his jaw back and forth as she watches his face, his eyes, his cheekbones, his lips. She thinks about how much he's changed in those three years they've known each other, how much he's grown, how much of a man he's become. His eyes are more serious, his shoulders are broader, he's more toned, stronger, and he's more open to her, she loves that if something is bothering him, she'll be the first person he tells. And same for her, and she loves him for it.

Her fingers brush against his neck and she feels his pulse against her skin, so quick, so fast. She looks into his eyes, questioning him in silence, he lets her fingers go, and he looks so shy and she guides her fingers to continue their investigation. She feels around his collarbone, the toughness of the bone, yet somehow so delicate and his skin so smooth. Her fingers trail downwards, and she hears him gasp softly when she reaches his chest.

« Sansa... » he speaks, and it sounds like a plea. She looks up at him and his grey eyes are of a darker shade, in the dim-lit of her room, and his mouth is slightly parted. She can feel his chest heaving up and down under her fingers, can almost sense his heartbeat too, and just like his pulse, it's fast and quick, and she's sure if he was to feel hers, it would be the same.

They're so close, and still, it's not close enough for her. Her hand is on his chest, his heartbeat under her fingers, and she doesn't know what comes over her. Maybe it's the fact that he's been sad for a few days and she can still feel how clenched his whole body is, even here with her. Maybe it's the fact that for three years, they've gotten closer and closer to each other. Maybe it's the fact that ever since she saw him in the dining hall, she's wanted to be close to him, never leave him, never be away from him for a second. Maybe it's all of this, or none of it, she doesn't know. She's trying to be brave, she wants to be, but her heart is beating so fast in her chest, and her knees feel weak.

And maybe this is why she loves him so much, how he knows when she wants to be brave but can't so he decides to be brave for both of them. With a light touch, he tucks her hair behind her ear, and his hand travels to her back and his touch sends shivers down her spine and she gasps – she doesn't mean to, and the slight smirk he shows makes her want to kiss it off his face. He beats her to it though, when he asks « Can I kiss you ? »

And she wants to laugh, because only him, only he would ask her permission to kiss her, when that's what she's been wanting to do ever since he's come back from that raid two and a half years ago. She wants to laugh and pat his shoulder because he's being honourable again, as he always is, but she doesn't laugh, no. Instead, she wraps her hands around his neck and leans in to kiss his lips. It's her first kiss, it's her first time feeling someone's lips on hers, and it's soft and gentle and she feels Jon kiss back, and she sighs into the kiss because right now, right there, as his hands glide to her waist to pull her closer to him, as she tightens her grip on his neck to keep him there, as she hears the growl escaping his throat when their tongues meet, and she feels like she belongs. The kiss which started as hesitant and shy is now turning hungry and needy; Sansa may not have much experience but this is the best thing in the world, she thinks. She can feel all of Jon against her, _all of him_ , and she has to pull away when she notices, because oh. _Oh_. She looks up at him and she can see he's flushed and his lips are all pink, bruised from the forceful kiss they were in seconds ago, and his eyes are much darker than earlier. He's looking at her, his eyes set on her, and she feels trapped, like she's an animal and a trap is closing in on her – but the thing is, she doesn't mind.

« I'm sorry, I.. » He starts and she sees his cheek tainting pink, and she smiles at him. « I got carried away.. » And his voice is so low, so soft, but there's a certain neediness to it, and she feels proud because she knows it's because of her, and what she feels, down there, is because of her too, and somehow it sets her skin on fire, knowing this. So she kisses him again, this time strongly but quickly, and she feels him smile in the kiss.

« We both did. » She whispers against his lips.

He smiles, the kind of smile she loves on him, the soft and gentle ones, the ones he keeps for her, the ones that usually come out when they're alone, and she's told him about a funny story from her childhood.

« I've been wanting to kiss you for a very long time. » He admits, and he averts his eyes and she thinks he's adorable, all shy when only a minute ago, his hands were bruising her hips from how tight his grip had been.

And how he says this, she realizes that she's been wanting to kiss him for a long time as well. And maybe, it's the way he looks at her again, or maybe it's the way he holds her gently but strongly in his hands, maybe that's why she kisses him again. This time she pulls him down with her and brings him fully against her, and she hopes he feels how much she loves him, how much she wants him. And maybe he does, because he kisses her back with as much force, and the fire inside her ignites again, and Jon's hands wander down her body and when one brushes against her breast, she gasps into his mouth, and she feels him smirking. Out of spite, she bites his bottom lip and he groans and she's the one to smirk now. He pulls away, and his eyes are full of lust and she thinks she's never wanted him more than now. He's playing with the string strap of her dress, but he's not taking it off of her.

« Is this okay ? » He asks, and she wants to kick him, she wants to yell at him, she wants to bring him inside her body so he can feel how _okay_ this feels to her. She nods and he smirks again and kisses her again, this time attacking her neck, as he pushes the straps off of her body making her whole dress fall on the floor, leaving her bare for him to see. She closes her eyes, in wonder, because gods, this boy, _no_ , this man is doing things to her body that she has never thought of before. His hand is massaging her breast while the other one is circling her hip, trailing dangerously to a place that's slowly being set on fire too. She whispers his name as a plea, silently begging him to stop teasing, and start touching her where she wants him to. But he doesn't, he only keeps kissing her chest but at least he's making his way down her body and she feels bold as she slightly pushes him with her hand on his neck. He seems to get the message when he finally kisses her _there_ , and she feels like she's reached a whole other level of happiness, no, better, she's feeling ecstatic. His lips and his tongue are doing wonders to her bundle of nerves and her hands are buried in his dark curls, and _gods, gods, gods_ , she thinks she's ascending to the heavens. The sounds that are coming out of her mouth are unholy so the gods might not accept her soul, but she doesn't care now. Nothing matters right now except Jon and his mouth on her and something in her stomach tightens and she's out of breath and it's too much for her. She's feeling too much, and for a second, she thinks something is happening, her whole body is going to collapse and she calls Jon's name but he doesn't answer, only keeps tasting her and this is too much, and something releases in her and it's nothing she's ever experienced before, and she holds onto Jon, because otherwise she might fall.

She rides it out, Jon kissing his way back up her body. She doesn't even think when he kisses her, full on the lips, and she can taster herself on his tongue, and her fingers are still in his hair, and she tugs a little bit, harshly enough to get a groan out of him, leaving his neck exposed so she dives in and takes a bite of his flesh and the sound he makes only makes her proud and sends a rush of boldness into her. She pushes her whole body against him, her hips grinding into his and he immediately responds by bucking his onto hers and the growl escaping his mouth drives her mad with want.

« Do you have any idea what you do to me ? » His voice is nothing but filled with desire and she chuckles a little because maybe she wasn't aware of it before, but she certainly is, with all of him pressed against her and she hums as her tongue darts to lick the spot she just bit. At this, Jon suddenly shifts and tugs on her hair at the nape of her neck and, _oh_ , she gets it, because it's still gentle but also rough and the nerves inside her stomach build up again as he brings her mouth to his. He doesn't kiss her though, no, he lets his mouth hover hers and she must look desperate because he smirks when she leans in for a kiss but he leans back and pulls harder. He pushes her against the wall of her room, her bare back scraping against the cold stone, and she gasps softly.

« Tell me what you want, Sansa. » Jon says, and there's an edge to his voice, she's never heard it before, and it's so honest and genuine, and she can hear that he genuinely wants to know and she feels her heart sigh in her chest because this boy, this man, just might be the death of her.

« I want you. » She answers, brushing a few curls away from his forehead, and his eyes soften as he hears her. « Just you. » And he kisses her then, bringing her closer, closer than they already were, and her hands go to his sleeve, pulling, almost tearing at his clothes. He lets her undress him, and she takes a moment to pull away and look, she can't help it, but she feels some scars under her fingers as she runs them on his chest. She doesn't ask and he doesn't say anything but she knows the conversation might come later but right now, she just thinks he's beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful and all hers. She keeps undressing him and he helps her and she bites her lips at the size of him, because wow, she's never seen another man naked but she knows that he's above average, far above average. And for a second, she's scared because she doesn't want it to hurt but then Jon lifts her chin with his fingers and he bore his grey eyes into hers.

« Are you afraid ? »

She can only nod, not trusting her voice not to shake. Jon brushes the back of his hand against her cheek, and he tilts his head upwards to drop a kiss on her forehead. « We don't have to. »

« But I want to. » She protests, and she really does. « I want you, Jon. » She repeats.

And this time, she's the one kissing him this time, fully on the lips, wrapping her fingers against his neck to bring him in, and his hands are around her waist and they're bare against each other, and the deeper they get into the kiss, the less she's afraid and the more she wants him. He walks with her to the bed and it's messy, and a little awkward, and they end up falling on the cushions and laughing for a while but it's wonderful to Sansa. It hurts at first, it being Sansa's first time, but Jon takes his time and kisses her as they wait for her to adjust, to calm her nerves. They go slow and it's a bit clumsy, but Sansa manages to peak again and Jon does too, and afterwards, they lay side by side, a thin duvet covering them both and Jon's hands are on her waist, tracing small circles on her skin with the pad of his thumb.

« Did you like it ? » He asks in a whisper. He shouldn't be here, the night has since long set over the palace and she knows if someone finds out about Jon and her laying together in her bed, word will spread and both of their reputation will be tainted. Especially her, since she's unmarried and he's a soldier of King Menelaus. And still, she can only smile at his concerned voice, and caress his cheek, in reassurance.

«I did. It hurt a bit at first », she confesses, « but I very much liked it. You are very good at it... » Even in the dimmed lighting, she can see the blush spreading to Jon's face, and she chuckles. « How did you know it would be good ? » He raises an eyebrow at her question. « That thing you did... with your mouth... »

« I don't know... I just knew I wanted to kiss you there it's all... » Jon answers, tries a casual shrug but Sansa knows he's just trying to dismay the fact that he's happy and proud.

She can't help but pull herself up and plant a kiss on his mouth. He responds immediately and she's about to pull herself up fully so she can climb over him, but he stops her.

« I don't think we should... » He whispers, and Sansa is confused.

« Didn't _you_ like it ? » She asks. « I mean... Was I not good ? » She lowers her eyes in shame, because maybe she wasn't. Maybe she wasn't as good at it as she had first thought, maybe in the end, he didn't like how she had felt and maybe -

« What ? » Jon interrupts her train of thought, « Gods, Sansa, you... You were amazing ! » He grabs her hand in his and drops a kiss to the soft skin. « You _are_ amazing. I just think, I would mind going for a second time with you, but, we should rest, if it hurt you, you probably need to heal before we do it again. »

It was Sansa's turn to blush. «So you want to do it again ? »

He pulls her closer to him, flush against his body and she blushes further, even he was inside of her only minutes ago. « Can't you feel it ? »

She can, she does and she has to bite her lip to stop herself from climbing on top of him, and Jon must think the same thing because he does pulls her by her neck and meets her halfway in a hungry kiss. And it's not the best idea, when she already wants him so bad, but well. She can't help it, no more than he does, it seems.

~ ~

In the next few months, Jon seems to have only one thing on his mind; he can't help it, but that night with Sansa, their first night together... Gosh, he had never been happier, his previous concern about his birthday entirely forgotten when he opened the wooden box she had presented to him. Now, his sword belt never leave him, he only takes it off when he's sleeping, and even then, it's right there, right next to his pillow underneath his fingers. And every time he sees her, all he wants to do is kiss her, and have her right then and there, taste her again, make her feel good. They've done it a few times now, and Jon has found out that Sansa is quiet, always restraining herself, so Jon has made it his mission to get her to fully let go. He lives for her screams, her earned moans and the way her fingers always pull his hair when she peaks as he feasts on her; those, he lives for those.

The word comes one day that a boat has set anchor in the bay and that a certain Prince named Paris is to visit the palace. Everyone is excited and running around, making preparations and Jon rolls his eyes each time he sees one of the cooks stress over what the Prince will eat or not. He spends most of his free time near the kitchen these days, for that is where he finds Sansa. The Queen requires to check on the advancements in the kitchen most nights, and after he finishes with cleaning his equipment in the arms room, he always goes to her in the kitchen. He lives for the smile she shows when she spots him, leaning against the wall, his hand behind his back, watching her as she helps the cook as much as she can. She always sneaks him something, a fruit, a small pie, some soft bread, and he always shares it with her, no matter how small the thing is. Many times, the cook Nimeas kicks them both out of his kitchen, and they always run off, giggling like children, hand in hand.

When the said Prince Paris arrives, the arrival party is quite grand. King Menelaus and Queen Helen make sure that everything is perfect for the arrival of the Prince. Jon stands back amongst his friends, all of them in full armor as a display of strength, and looks over at Sansa; she's looking radiant in her long flowy pink dress, and he bites his lip thinking how much he wants to tear it off of her. She must sense his eyes on her as she always does and she turns her head towards him. She's standing a few feet behind the queen and he stands on the right side of King Menelaus so they have a pretty good view of each other, and Jon doesn't miss the quick once over she gives him, he wonders if seeing him in his armor does things to her. Her eyes catch up to his, and he winks at her, smirking. Even from where's standing, he can see that her cheeks are flushed and it's not from the fresh breeze. Fighting off his smile, he focuses on the people arriving, reminding him of his manners.

Later, as Sansa and him are walking down the corridor, while the feast is booming in the dining hall, he speaks quietly.

« You look beautiful today. »

« Today? » Sansa raises an eyebrow. « Only today? »

« Every day, » Jon corrects, and he doesn't miss the smirk playing on her lips as he does, « but particularly today. I really like that dress. »

« Do you? I actually made it myself. »

« You've done an amazing job. »

« Thank you very much, Jon. » And he can tell she's proud by the way her hand squeezes his and by how bright her eyes look. « What did you think of the Prince ? »

Jon shrugs, not really seeing where she's going with this. « He's alright, I suppose, for a prince. He looked too much at the queen in my opinion, but who can really blame him ? »

«He does, doesn't he ? » Sansa chuckles. «Jeyne said the same thing, but it's probably nothing. He might find the queen beautiful but she's the King's wife. »

« Do you think being married to a man stops some men ? » Jon asks, and he stops walking to turn to her. « Men take what they want, men see something they like and won't care who it belongs to, they'll just take it for their own. Men aren't like they are in songs, Sansa. We're not all knights and we're not all good. »

Sansa looks at him as he finishes and his heart is racing in his chest, and she's still holding onto his arms, her fingers a soft reminder of everything that is good in the world.

« But you're good. » She says after a moment. She brushes the curls away from his face and keeps her hand on his cheek, he indulges into her touch, the only thing he calls home now. Not the palace, not his room, her. Always her. « You're good and you're gentle, and you love me. You are good, Jon. You are. »

« You don't know that. » He says, gravely. « I've done things, Sansa. »

« Killing someone in battle isn't- »

«I've done things long before that, Sansa. » Jon interrupts her, and the words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself. « I was an orphan, I stole and I hurt people who caught me and I made sure that those who wouldn't feed me weren't fed either. I am not good, Sansa. »

He watches as the words sink in her mind, and waits for the blow. The disgust, the fear, the disdain that comes with the truth. He watches, and waits, but it never comes ; not disgust, not fear, not disdain. She looks at him, her eyes softening and her fingers don't leave his face.

« You are good. » She repeats, and he shakes his head in protest but then she puts both of her hand on his cheeks, keeping him still. « To me, you are good. Right now, you are good. I don't want to think about all the bad things that have happened in your life, they belong in the past. And you belong with me now. Here, with me. You will never hurt me. »

« No, I won't. » He immediately says. « I'll protect you, always, now and forever. You...you are everything to me. »

« Oh Jon… » Sansa smiles, and she wraps her hands around his neck and he instinctively goes in for a kiss. It's a small one, but he can feel everything she wants to say, as always.

Weaks pass and the Prince is still there, and by now, even Jon can't help but notice the amount of time the Prince Paris and the Queen seem to spend together. A trip to the market, a walk in the garden, all the times he reaches out for the queen during the night feasts... if a man were to spend as much time with Sansa, the man would find Jon's sword in his chest before the sun sets. But again, no man does, Jon has made sure of it. One day, as he's training with the new recruits, he catches her near a wall, a basket balanced on her hip. She seems to be watching, he can see her eyes are set on him. He doesn't stop the fight though, only continues to show blow after blow. He can feel her watching as his bare back moves, tan and strong, as he stops every hit coming his way easily, with a grace. As he does so, his eyes catch hers and he doesn't miss the blush creeping on her cheeks, even from where he's standing. He turns to the other boys and puts down his sword in its sheath.

« Everyone, take ten. » He walks off towards where Sansa is standing, and he knows all the boys are watching him walking to Sansa, and he knows that they'll talk, but right now all he cares about is the way the dress is showing off Sansa's body, and he knows that body by heart now. All he cares about is how she looks at him as he finally reaches her side.

  
  


« Hi. » He speaks, and she barely hides the way her eyes drop to his bare chest – and lower – and he smirks.

  
  


« Hi. » She says back, her voice sweet and soft like he knows it is.

  
  


They stare at each other for what seems to be hours but she can't look away and he doesn't seem to be either. He sees the way there's a few drops of sweat following the curve of her long neck, he sees a couple of new freckles on her collarbone, from the long exposure in the sun and he reminds himself to learn how they taste under his tongue later.

  
  


Clearing his throat, he nods towards her basket. « Find of the day? »

  
  


She nods. « Lady Helen wants apricot tarts for the feast. Prince Paris likes them. »

  
  


Jon eyes the fruits resting peacefully in the basket, but really he's just admiring the way her arm keeps it balanced on her hip, how long it is, he knows how soft it, how tender the skin feels under his lips. Feeling the blood rushing down his body, he tries to think about something else. The fruits. Fruits. Yes, fruits. Fruits are good. «Have you tasted them?»

  
  


He doesn't wait for her answer before he grabs an apricot from the batch and bites into it, and Sansa gasps softly as he does. His lips curls around the fruits but he doesn't really care for it to be honest. The way Sansa's chest lifts up and down as she watches him bite in the fruit, slowly – he's making a show of it, he knows, but her reaction is worth of it. He nods and hums in approval, and then extends the fruit to her. She's about to protest, but his eyes insist and he holds the fruit to her lips and she bites into it gently, a small bite, like the good lady she is but it's enough for her to know that the fruit is sweet and ripe enough. Some juice escapes and she's about to wipe it but Jon captures it before she can move her free hand. His thumb is at her lips, catching the sweet nectar, and then he brings it to his own lips. This time, it's a low moan that escapes her lips, and it sends shivers down Jon's body.

« Delicious. » He whispers, in a low tone, « I can't wait to taste more. »

  
  


Sansa clears her throat, and blinks a few times before speaking. « I’ll bring you one once they're done. »

  
  


Jon raises an eyebrow and he wonders if she actually will. He wouldn’t mind, but well, that’s not the only thing he’ll taste tonight. « I’m looking forward to it. »

  
  


And with a smile, she walks away, and Jon bites his lips and watches Sansa walk away from him, her red hair looking like fire in the scorching sunlight. He waits till she completely disappears to turn away, and goes back to his trainees. He finds them talking and they don't stop as he approaches, one of the oldest ones, Pavlos, calls him, catching his attention. 

  
  


« And see, even our own Jon wants to find out ! »

  
  


« Find out what? » Jon asks, brows furrowing.

  
  


« The taste of a woman's love! What else! » The young lad says. 

  
  


« What are you even talking about? » Jon sighs, frustration clear in his voice. He likes them, likes training them, but sometimes, like right now, it was reminded that they were teenagers, barely fourteen for some of them, and that teenagers love to talk. He is still a teen himself, but sometimes, in times like this, he feels so distant from them.

  
  


« He was talking about The Prince Paris has been looking at Lady Helen, and how he probably wants her. » Explains another trainee, Iasinas.

« You shouldn't say that. » Jon retorts. He's heard the King complain about the Prince’s behaviour towards the Queen, and if he heard the trainees were talking too...

  
  


« But it's true isn't it ? » The young Pavlos says. « We’re all strong in a fight but when it comes to tasting a woman, we’re all weak! Paris wants to know how lady Helen tastes and by the look of it, Jon wants to know how young lady Sansa tastes ! »

  
  


The whole lot laughs but Jon stays silent. He stares at the young teenager with blank eyes. Slowly, he scoffs, and grabs his sword that was resting on the stone, near a boy. 

  
  


« Come. » Jon says, addressing Pavlos directly in a tone that demands respect, and the young teens fall quiet. Jon strides towards the center of the yard, where they were fighting only minutes ago. He turns back and turns his feet on the ground, looking up at the young kid with a look that is more feral than man. « Come. » He repeats, with the same tone.

  
  


Pavlos gulps visibly, understanding now that he has made a mistake and knows he's going to face the consequences. Jon watches him move and walk towards him, sword in hand, the steel catching the blinding rays of sun. Jon doesn't give him time to breathe, as Pavlos barely reaches the centre before he raises his sword forcefully and attacks with a ferocity he usually doesn't convey unless he's on the battlefield. In his mind, the words spoken by Pavlos ring and deafen him. Jon hits, blow after blow, never giving the poor teenager a second to gather his breath. Jon pushes and pushes until the kid trips, and falls backwards, his sword falling on the ground. Jon holds his own sword, tight in his grip as he points it towards the youngster’s neck, the sharp steel brushing against Pavlos' tan skin.

  
  


« Please Jon I- stop! I yield! » The boy begs, his voice shaking.

  
  


« And why should _I_ listen to you when you ask me to stop but _you_ don't when I ask you to? » Jon growls, the words still clear in his mind. The young one doesn't answer, only looks at the blade, fear transparent in his eyes. Jon lowers his sword. « If I ever hear you or your friends speak badly of lady Sansa, I’ll rip your guts out through your throat. Is that clear? »

  
  


The young one vividly nod. And Jon raises his chin before he turns around, leaving the courtyard, walking back to his chambers. He didn't feel like training them anymore. Not when he still couldn't shake the way they would talk about Sansa, not when all he wanted to do was put that boy’s head through a wall. But he couldn't. And the rage inside him wasn't appeased in the slightest. Perhaps. this is a field of its own. 

  
  


~ ~

The feast is in full swing and Sansa can barely catch her breath as she turns and turns, swinging her arms with Jon and then Robb and then Jon again. The smile on her lips makes her face ache but she doesn't care. She feels like a child. She never wants this to end. She twirls again, her fingers holding Robb's, and her heart is so light and she dwells on the feeling. Jon's hands find her waist and she follows their lead and spins and spins and spins...

The music ends and she lets herself go in Jon's secure hands, stopping her knees from collapsing. She holds him close, and his mouth search hers, leaning in to capture in a kiss, but she leans further, and shakes her head.

« Later, » she whispers. She turns to her brother who's openly kissing Jeyne, and wants to roll her eyes at them, and Jon is nibbling at her neck – _by the gods_ , his lips are her weakness and she's selfish because if they were alone she would have bitten him right back and gotten a moan out of him, those low moans she loves so much – but she pushes him away slightly. He growls and she pats his shoulder, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek to appease him. He squeezes her hand before walking away from her, dragging Robb away from Jeyne too so they can get back to their table and Sansa grabs Jeyne by the hand as well and walks away.

As everyone settles again, the Prince rises from his seat; he's sitting near the Queen and the King like the guest of honor he is, Sansa can't help but notice the way he raises his cup, so self assured, with confidence spilling out of him. At first, she had thought of him as handsome and strong when he appeared at the city gates, but now, after so many weeks watching him walk with Queen Helen, gifting her with so many things, so many weeks where the smile of the Queen has been brighter and her laugh louder...Sansa watches as the queen watches the Prince and she wonders if she's the only one to see it, see how Helen's eyes shine as she looks up to Paris, in a way they never shone for the king. She turns her gaze to King Menelaus, and she stares as he looks at his cup of wine, and she feels bad for him. She wouldn't like to be the one who had to watch the person she loves falling in love with someone else. She turns to Jon, and he's already watching her, a small smile playing on his lips, and she can't help but smile too. She wishes that she was sitting next to him. She needs to be with him, feel his skin, feel his hair in her fingers, needs to be wrapped in his arms, needs to be with him, now.

The crowd cheers as Paris finishes his speech, but Sansa doesn't move, she only watches Jon and he watches her back, with a look Sansa knows so well. Later, when they're lying in her bed after tracing maps of love around each other's body and his fingers are still dancing on the curve of her neck, he looks at her with the same look. She falls asleep, safe in his arms, love surrounding her, Jon's lips on her forehead, his heart in her hand.

  
  


She walks up to the queen's room, as she does every morning, to wake up Helen. Sansa likes to think sometimes that the Queen and her have developed their relationship into a friendship. They spend a lot of time together after all; Sansa helps her dress and she has taught Helen how to braid her hair. Helen has taught her the dance from her homeland, and Sansa knows her favorite flowers and what scents she likes in her bath. Sansa likes the queen, and she likes to think the Queen likes her too. That's why when Sansa opens the wooden doors and enters the queen's chambers and sees the untouched bed, and Queen Helen nowhere in sight, she doesn't understand at first. She looks for Helen everywhere, around the room, in the en-suite bathroom, she opens the windows and looks at on the gardens and doesn't spot the queen anywhere. _Maybe she went to King Menelaus' chambers,_ Sansa thought. Yes, maybe that's it... But then Sansa remembers how Queen Helen looked at the Prince, and suddenly she's scared. She leaves the room, her heart beating loud in her chest, her feet taking her to the King's side of the palace. She doesn't usually go to this part of the palace, only keeps to the Queen's but now... She passes by very few people, and asks them if they have seen the queen ; they all look at her incredulously – and it's justified right ? She's one of the few people who has to be near the queen at all times, and yet she's asking _them_ where the queen is. She reaches the ng's quarters and she runs into Robb, and she sighs in relief when she sees him because he must know, right ? Robb always knows everything, he always has the answer, he always knows what to do, surely, he'll know what to do now.

« Sansa ? What are you doing here? » Robb asks, brows furrowed. « Is everything okay? Did someone hurt you? »

She wants to hug him, wants to jump in his arms, she wants to stay there and let him make it alright because he's Robb and he's her big brother and she's his little sister and she always feels safe when he's around. She wants to cry at his words, because he is the best brother she could ask for, and she's so lucky. But she'll tell him after, right now she needs to find the Queen.

« I am fine, I can't find the Queen. I was thinking maybe she was here with the King... » Sansa admits and she sees the information reach Robb and then he looks upset.

« Come with me. » He grabs his sister's hand and Sansa lets Robb take her in the side of the palace she has never been. The quarters assigned to the Prince. They're quiet, even though there's no one around, and Sansa fools herself thinking that it's because of the early hour. The sun has only shown its face after all, it's normal no one's awake yet. But Sansa knows, and the way Robb opens the door of the Prince's chambers without knocking tells her he knows too. They both stare at the empty room, and Sansa sees the uncreased sheets on the bed and how they echo the queen's bed and she wants to kick herself for being so stupid.

« The bastard... » Robb whispers, and he turns to Sansa. « You're sure the queen wasn't in her chambers? Absolutely sure? » Sansa nods, and watches as her brother rubs a hand over his face in distress. « The King is going to kill him... »

  
  


Sansa had never seen the King angry, she has heard rumors of course, of how violent he was in a fight, how good he was in a fight, how it's not a fair fight whenever he's fighting because of how good of a fighter he is. So when she meets with him, Robb by her side, Sansa is afraid. She's afraid because the first thing Menelaus does when Robb tells him that Queen Helen and The Prince is missing is throw the copper cup at the wall, near Sansa's head. She ducks in time, and Robb's body is there to shield her anyway, but still.

Menelaus is shaking with anger, it's flooding out of him in waves and Sansa wants to run, she wants to run out of this room, she wants to go and find Jon and make sure he is there, that he's still there in the palace and that he hasn't disappeared either.

« Search the city. » Menelaus orders, and Robb stands straight again, but his hand is still in Sansa's and she's thankful for his strength. « Gather the men and search through every house, every single corner of the whole Greece if you must! Find them! »

Robb bows his head, and Sansa follows him out. Once they're out, he walks a couple of steps and then turns to his sister.

« Go back to your room, and wait there. I'll find Jeyne and send her to you. But don't come out, okay? Don't talk to anyone unless it's the King or me, do you understand? »

Sansa nods, but she doesn't want to go, she wants to keep her brother's hand in hers and steal his bravery, because she's not, she could never be as brave as him, and she needs that right now. But she nods regardless. « What's going to happen now? »

Robb stares at her for a few minutes, and she knows he's debating whether or not to tell her the truth . He's always protected her from everything, and even now, he is doing the same. He leans in and drops a kiss to her forehead. «Nothing, not to you. »

  
  


Sansa is pacing in her room, when there's a knock on her door. The door opens slightly and she is actually surprised to see Jon entering her bedroom; he has crossed her doorway many times, and still, her heart will always skip a beat when she sees him. He's barely inside but she's already running to him, flying her body into his already extended arms; he smells like burning iron, he smells like the sun and she buries herself into his neck, taking it all in. She feels his lips against her cheek and she lets herself cry for the first time today, and she doesn't mean to cry, she doesn't want to, but it's all she can do. With his arms around her, his steady stance, she feels like everything might be okay.

« Are you okay? » Jon asks against her skin.

She pulls away slightly, not completely leaving his embrace, he doesn't make any move to let her go either so she stays there, his hands around her waist, her hands around his neck. She shakes her head, not caring for her tears. « I just don't understand...Why would she leave ? »

« He took her. » Jon corrects her and Sansa frowns. « Paris took the queen, she didn't go on her own will. »

« You don't know that, Jon. » Sansa retorts. « You can't tell me you never saw the way he looked at her, or all the times they spent together or even -... »

« Sansa, listen to me. » Jon brings his hands to her face, and she hates how it grounds her immediately, how all of her worries seem to fleet away as he sets his eyes on her. « It doesn't matter, what we saw or what we think, it doesn't matter. The Queen is not in the city, the Prince is not in the city and the King... » Jon lets out a hard breath and Sansa feels his heart breaking in his chest, because Jon is hers, and everything he feels, she does too. His eyes are hard when he looks up again. « I am not supposed to tell you, or anyone, but...The King is going to call on his bannermen. Queen Helen... I am sure you know the contest bounds the men who try to win her favor. It bounds them to come and rescue her. The King is going to call them, so we can all sail to Troy and get the Queen back. »

The words sink in Sansa's brain, and she feels her knees go weak, so she holds onto Jon tighter, she digs her fingers into Jon's shoulders, and he doesn't move away from them.

« You're leaving... »

The truth hits them both at the same time, and she lets go of him, and his hands leave her too, and she feels empty all of sudden. She looks at him and she sees him dead, she sees him laying down in the mud, blood coming out of him and she hates what she sees, she hates that she knows, she hates that he knows and doesn't stop it.

« Don't go. » The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them, and she knows how she sounds. Desperate. Stupid. Selfish.

« Sansa, I can't. » He says, and she can hear the sadness in his voice.

« Do you love me? »

«What? »

« Answer me. » Sansa has never been angry at him, has never had any reason to be angry at him. But right now, she wants to be angry, she wants him to give her a reason to hate him, so that she can feel better when he leaves. So she can lie to herself when she eventually doesn't.

Jon crosses the space in between them, but doesn't touch her, he keeps his eyes on her, and they're soft, not hard like she expects them to be. « I am in love with you. » He states, and it creates a hole in her chest and she wants to reach out when the first tear run down his cheek. « You...You are everything to me. Everything. All the good things that ever happened to me, all the things I hold dear, they all start and end with you, Sansa. You're the first thing I think of when I open my eyes, and the last thing as I go to sleep and even then, you're in my dreams. I am...I am gone for you Sansa. I... »

She kisses the end of his sentence and finds it on his tongue, her nails leaving traces on his shoulders, and he holds her just as strong, and she pushes his shirt off of his skin and bites all the space she finds, marking him, writing her name with her tongue and teeth and he growls against her own neck and maybe she’s a little desperate, a tad stupid. And very selfish. When it comes to him, having him, she most certainly is. She drags him to her bed, undressing him further that by the time he's laying underneath her, he's naked as he was on the day he was born. She moves on top of him, and his eyes never leave her as she does, her hands are on his chest and she watches him and she tries to tell herself that this is not the last time. It's not the last time she stares into his eyes, not the last time she touches him that way, not the last time he's going to make her his, not the last time she's going to feel his soft curls under her fingers. She lies to herself and moves against him, trying to commit the feeling to memory, and he brings her down for a feverish kiss and she gasps in his mouth as he moves into her, slowly, like she could break, fiercely, like the whole world ended on her skin. On hers, she doesn't know, but on Jon's ? Yes, it does. They move against each other with a desperation and ferocity, like they're two animals, two wolves she imagines, fighting, loving, protecting. And as they lay side by side, exhausted from their throes of passion – the second time had been slower, the third had been all about her, and in the fourth they had met again with an intensity that made her cry on his skin as she peaked – and he's gently letting his knuckles move against her jaw, and the tears on his cheeks have dried too, she can't find herself to be mad anymore. She wants to be. She wants to yell and scream and find the Queen herself so she can ask her, shake her as she asks what they all want to know.

« I don't want to go », Jon whispers, bringing her back, « It's a lost cause. The Queen is gone. I don't want to fight for someone who's never coming back. » She wants to shush him, she wants him to take back his words, but she doesn't. She can't let Jon keep the truth unspoken, not him. « I don't want to be away from you. Ever, not for anything. »

« You'll come back. » It's a lie. She knows it the second she tastes the words on her lips, but she can't help herself, she needs this as much as he does. « It'll be a short war. You and Robb are going to be amongst the heroes they write songs about. You're a great fighter so you'll win the war in no time. You and Robb will come back. Robb will marry Jeyne, a day in the spring, I heard Jeyne say she wanted a spring wedding. And we can get married too if you want, » his hand settle in the curve of her neck as a tear escape his beautiful grey eyes again, « Any season is fine with me, I would love winter though. I have always dreamed of seeing snow, not that it's ever going to happen here, but I have always wanted to see mountain tops covered in snow. »

« I'll marry you. » He says, and Sansa wants to reach out and take his pain and make it hers, so he can stop hurting. « If you'll have me. One day. One day, when this is all over, we'll go on a trip and we'll see the mountain tops and they'll be covered in snow and we'll climb them all and I'll be good to you, and I'll keep you happy. I'll protect you, I promise. Forever. »

They lay together for a while longer, letting the lie settle between them, and Sansa doesn't want to think how bad it feels, how much pain she feels right now. No. All she wants to think about is how Jon's hands feel on her, how his skin is warm, and tan and how every touch from him feels like salvation and she wants to lay her life at his feet and let him take it. _Take it_ , she wants to yell, _it's nothing without you anyway_ , but she doesn't. She only scoots closer to Jon, until there's no space, no air, no room for anything between them, and he obliges by bringing her closer, his arms a solid wall to hide herself in. She can't tell where she ends and where Jon begins and she thinks it's for the better. So maybe when he leaves, a part of him will stay with her.

~ ~

Jon can't take his eyes away from the shore as the boats sail away. A month. A whole month to gather the men and decide their strategy to attack Troy. Every day had been awful and long with training and never ending speeches. Agamemnon had been really effective in preparing them for battle, supplying them with a hundred ship and men and weapons. The King had been...happy with how quick the progress was. A month. Thirty days where Jon had made sure to always go back to Sansa as soon as he could. He hadn't woken in his chambers for thirty days, to the point where he has almost forgotten the colour of his walls, to the point that there's an indentation in the shape of him on her bed. He likes to think this is how she'll remember him by. And maybe when this is long over, maybe she'll think about his fingers on her, maybe she'll eat a lemon cake and remember every time he brought her one. He doesn't know, he hopes she just remembers him. Because as he stands there, on the quarter deck, looking back on all the people waving goodbye, all he can see is her, her lilac dress flowing as the sea wind flows through the light fabric, her red hair catching in the sunlight. He's too far away now but he knows there's tears on her cheeks, he knows that she smells like fresh cut grass, rosemary and sea salt. He takes a deep breath in, trying to catch any last bit of her fragrance carried by the wind.

  
  


Jon hates the war. He decides three months into it: he hates it. They reach the shore of Troy, this foreign land and Jon already wants to go back. Gods, he'll swim back to Sparta on his own if he means he can leave this awful place. Agamemnon proves to be quite a leader. For a while. They attempt to siege the city, every day they meet the Trojans on the battlefield, and every day, they don't win, or barely, never enough to actually take the city and get the Queen back. This is not what he had wanted. The fighting used to thrill him, it used to be exhilarating at first, but then the second month on land pass, and the smell of blood and dirt and mud and sweat exhausts him and he goes back to his shared tent, exhausted every night and he thinks about Sansa and he wonders if she's forgotten him already. Every night he falls asleep and he thinks about her smile, her laugh, her blue eyes on him, and he wishes they could win already so they could go back to Sparta. Sometimes, when Menelaus summons him to enquire about the state of the men, Jon wants to tell him the Queen it's not worth it. He wants to spit the truth in his face, tell him that the Queen Helen left, she wasn't abducted, she left, they all know that. But then, one look at Menelaus' face – the dark circles under his eyes, the wrinkles on his face, a new one appearing every day, the slunking posture of his body, so unlike a King - and Jon knows he could never, he couldn't say that to Menelaus. He doesn't want to inflict any more pain; after all, if someone were to take Sansa from him, Jon would rally all the soldiers from all the armies, he would travel to the Underworld and back, like Orpheus had for Eurydice, he would kill any man standing in his way to get his Sansa back. So that's why Jon keeps his mouth shut in front of the King and only speaks of the state of the men every time the king asks.

Years pass and a plague hits them. The God Apollo curses them and many men fall ill and most of them die. Their forces end up being lessen by a lot, and they're already tired and exhausted and most of them die with a relief. The battlefield is almost empty, and Jon watches on the line, and he can't see from where he's standing but he knows they're laughing, those Trojans, they're laughing because the Spartans, Jon's men, are dying because of some illness, thrown onto them by a god. Jon wants to run, he wants to run to the city gates of this damned city and find the Queen himself, bring her back by the hair and finish this so they can go home. He's so tired of it all, he finds himself shaking in anger and frustration.

« Any man we can kill today? » Robb's voice doesn't startle him, nothing startles him anymore, he's grown so used to being alert all the time, he doesn't care anymore.

«Sadly no. » Jon sighs and doesn't dare turning towards Robb, he'll know what he'll see. He'll see blue eyes and reddish brown hair and hope on his face and Jon can't look at him anymore, not when he looks so much like Sansa. Jon can't look at his best friend, not when Robb reminds him of everything he's left behind.

« I would give everything to just cross the field and kill them all. »

« You and me both. »

« It'll be over soon. » Robb says, and Jon can't help but scoff because he knows it's a lie. It's been going on for six years. This stupid war has been going for six years, they've killed and lost men, more men are dying on their side every day. They're all tired. Robb knows that. Jon knows that.

« We have the best fighters of all Greece. » Robb continues. « Achilles, Ajax, Agamemnon is fine when he's not drunk, Patroclus... »

« And yet we're losing this war. » Jon says, and there's a sadness in his voice. And Robb doesn't add anything. The truth has never hurt as much.

Eventually, after many weeks and many bodies being put to the ground, their side finally gets back to fight again. Jon flings his sword at the man in front of him, bends forward to avoid the blow on his left and pushes the trojan soldier away from him with a swift kick of his leg , and the man goes to the floor, and it gives Jon enough time to swing his blade through the other one in front of him. He smiles as the men's blood spill on his hand and Jon looks around as the body falls to the ground, the red liquid mixing with the dirty brown earth. He sees spears and swords and occasionally he notices an archer from afar and his vision is still clear even though there's blood on his face – not his, not his, not his. He catches Robb in the distance, struggling to fight off his opponent and Jon doesn't have to think twice, before he runs towards his friend. He pushes soldiers away from his path and when he reaches Robb, he catches his blue eyes and a smile before he raises his sword in a full blow and the trojan soldier falls easily but then there's more, always more, more and more, from the left and the right, and Jon is tired and his arms ache from fighting after weeks of not raising his sword and maybe that's why. Maybe that's why he doesn't see the man coming from behind him, maybe that's why he feels the spear at the last moment, when it's already piercing through his body. He looks down, and sees the blade on the spear's end coming out of him and then he disappears and Jon feels himself falling to the ground, his knees failing him. He would have found dying to be harder, to be more complicated, but as he falls down in the mud...he would have imagined death to be more painful, but it's not, his body hits the mud, and he can't feel anything. He can hear his name being called in the distance and he thinks it's Sansa, but no, it can't be. She's miles away, a sea in between them, and for a quick second, he's afraid his soul will never see her again, and he tries to move just so he doesn't die here. He doesn't want to die here, not without her, not in this foreign land, not when he dreamed of her for years now. He hears hard iron coming down on steel in the background.

_Don't go._

The last thing he sees is red hair coming towards him and then darkness.


	2. Northern England - 1100s

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My early Christmas gift to you all! Enjoy your holidays and I hope you get everything you wished for, and that the New Year brings you luck and health and wealth and happiness and love! Enjoy this chapter in the meantime !   
> My wishes and love goes to my wonderful @sansaravenclaw who just finished reading this, and told me she needed more so expect the next chapter soon? i guess?   
> anyway, good reading!

  1. North of England - 1100s



"don't go where I can't follow" - j.r.r tolkien

For as long as anyone can remember, the Starks of Winterfell always held the North. The English tribe has always been here, close associated with the Brigantes who are ruling over their whole county, or at least that's what Jon is told as soon as he can understand the world. From a young age, Jon observes the world around him, from the sidelines, because as an orphan raised by a man he calls uncle Benjen, he has the privilege of being able to fade in the shades and not be noticed by anyone. He learns a few things in his youth: always look behind you before turning around a street corner; always keep at least one coin in your leather purse and highborns don't mingle with low borns. He learns this one when he's nineteen; by this point, he's been an apprentice for the local blacksmith for three years, and his arms have grown to the regular use of the hammer and he spends most of his days inhaling smoke and forging things. At first, it had been a small job to help his uncle, but he had grown to like the feeling of the hammer in his hand, and the sound of the stone hitting the metal had begun to be a lullaby to him, so he had asked for a full time job, and Jeor Mormont had accepted. The old man couldn't say no to a pair of young hands and Jon had been more than eager to prove himself. After a few months of working for Mormont, Jon had caught up a few skills and even worked on personal pieces he started to sell in the shop and at the local market.

One day, he spots a crowd forming and running towards the Main Square and for a second, he wonders what it is. He's just done with finishing some hooks for the local market sale in a couple of days, and he dusts his hands and turns to his mentor, Jeor Mormont, the best blacksmith in the city.

« D'you know what's going on? » He asks.

«Mary says some lord is coming to court one of the Stark girls. A cousin of the Carveti or something, I don't know.. » Mormont answers.

Jon scoffs, but can't help feel a pang of jealousy. He can't imagine what it's like to have a whole crow gathering just to see him arrive if he was to go to another town. Not that he's ever going to. He doesn't have any means to travel, what he's earning is barely enough to keep him and his uncle fed and housed, and he knows he'll probably die hitting the metal in front of him, his dreams and aspirations along with him. He thinks about his dream of being a knight, like the ones he sees parading around town sometimes, he thinks of his dream of leaving this smelly town, and discover the world, maybe travel to the mountains and see them covered in snow. He thinks about his dream of a family, with a wife and a few children; this one comes back more than he'd like to admit, usually when he's alone in his bed, his hand sore from clenching around that hammer all day long. In his dreams, he sees a red haired woman sitting by the fire of a small house, with three children playing around her, two with blue eyes and dark brown hair and one with grey eyes and red hair just like copper; he never manages to get a good glimpse of the woman's face, she's always turned away from him, but he knows they love each other. It's just a dream, and the first time Jon thinks about it, he thinks he's crazy, has gone absolutely mad but he knows he loves her, and that she loves him, knows it like he knows the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. He's mad somehow, that he's never been able to see her face; he'd like to know, so maybe he could look for her. But that's wishful thinking, Jon knows; no one will ever love him, not for what he can give anyway. He can't give anything, he's a child, with no parents and no bright future. He was done for the moment he was born. Anger flooding his veins, he drowns the sound of the crowd by lifting his hammer and letting it fall hard on the burning iron.

~~

Sansa tries to steady her heart by breathing in one last time before stepping out of her room. Her grey gown seems to float as she walks but Sansa has never felt more down in her life. Every step she walks reminds her of where she's heading, and how much she hates it. It's been this way for a long time now, ever since the news broke that someone was courting her. A lord, cousin of the Brigantes as it turns out. A good match, her parents had said, and maybe if she was nine and her head full of tales and dreams of true love, maybe she would have believed them. But she's not a stupid little girl anymore. She knows who she is in the world, she knows that no one will marry her for love, only her title. But she is Sansa Stark, eldest daughter of Lord Eddard and Catelyn Stark, this is her home and if she has to marry someone she doesn't like, she can at least be smart about it.

She finally reaches the hall and meets a few servants and maids and nods at them, showing a small smile. They all smile back; she wonders if they know it's all an act, do they know she'd rather starve and die – her neck hanging by a rope, a dagger to her heart, her body flying as she falls from the highest tower of her home, she's only 17 and yet she's thought about it so many times - than be on her way to a man after her title and her land. Not her though,  _ never _ her. She sees her family, already standing tall and proud. Her mother is arranging her brother's Bran fur coats at his shoulders, and Sansa can't help but smile; for as long as she could remember, there was always something missing with her, like a hole inside of her filled with nothing, and she has always felt it, but her siblings, God bless their souls, they always make her feel like she belongs. But alone, at night, once she has departed all the feasts and long supper and made her courtesies to everyone, once she has settled under the thick furs shielding her from the numbing cold, the loneliness always creeps back on her, catching her off guard, making her far too aware of this piece of her that is missing.

She closes the remaining space between her and her family and stands next to her brother Robb. He's tugging at his collar, trying to loosen it certainly, and she wishes she could reach it and help him but she keeps her hands to her sides, trying not to clench them from all the tension in her body. Her mother stops bothering her younger sister Arya who's tugging at her dress, and Sansa can't help but smile, because Arya has never been one for proper court behaviour. At times, Sansa wishes she could be more like Arya, but that never could be, she's the good girl of the family, the perfect little lady. She keeps her gaze straight ahead of her, and prays that nobody can hear the loud beating of her heart.

The party arrives and there's a few soldiers walking in first, they step outside quickly, one of them remaining at the front. He clears his throat and then walk in three people. Two men, and a woman. The woman is a beauty, tall and lean with beautiful blond hair and brown eyes. She's wearing a beautiful gown, the color of a forest in summer. The two men look nothing alike, maybe except for their eyes, a pale shade of blue, but the oldest has brown hair and the youngest blond hair.  _ It looks like gold _ , Sansa thinks,  _ that must be my intended _ . She catches his gaze and she wants to be a good lady and look down, like she's always been taught to, but right now, as the pair of green eyes look at her, she can't help herself but hold his gaze.

  
  


« My Lords, My Lady, you are in the presence of Lord Elys Waynwood, his wife, Lady Alys Waynwood, born Arynn, and his eldest son, Harold Waynwood. » One of the soldiers announces and Sansa looks at him and wonders how many times he's had to say these words.

Lord Eddard Stark, Sansa's father, steps forward and introduces his family to their guests. Sansa wants to smile, because her father insists on doing these things himself instead of having someone to do it, like the Waynwoods. Sansa doesn't miss the way Lord Elys' eyes scan her up and down, and then a frown appears on his face, and it drives her mad with uncertainty. What is he thinking, she wonders, does he find her ugly? Too fair? Too tall? As she looks over at Harold Waynwood, with his imposant height and strong posture and his blonde hair and his piercing blue eyes, she supposes it doesn't really matter what she looks like. Anything will suit them if it means they'll hold power of Stark owned lands once Sansa's parents die.

She doesn't even listen to what they're saying, she couldn't care less if she’s honest. She keeps to herself and only answers when prompted. Ned Stark decides to give the Waynwoods a tour of the property and she and Robb go along. As they walk along the towers and the corridors, Sansa wonders again what her body would feel like if she was to fall –  _ jump _ – down the highest tower. Would it hurt? Would she be dead before hitting the ground? As she closes her eyes, thinking about the sweet release death would surely provide her, a face comes to her. A long face, grey eyes, dark curly hair. She opens her eyes, confused and she quickly looks around, trying to see if she spots him, but...

« Sansa ? » She turns to her father, and quickly realizes that she's standing alone in front of an armor replica. The man has a sword at his side, standing by a short version of the Stark banner, the direwolf baring his fangs. « You coming, love ? »

She nods and resumes her steps towards the rest of the group, not without quickly glancing back at the banner.  _ I am a Stark, I can be brave, like all Starks before me _ . Sansa raises her chin when she slows her step by the young lord Harold, and she can feel him looking at her, but she doesn't look back. In the distance, she can hear a hammer hitting iron and somehow, her steps match the sound and brings her a newly found peace. Something she has longed for for a very long time.

~~

The market sale happens every two weeks, and it's not really the first time Jon is able to showcase what he's been working on, but the pressure is always the same. The more people like what you're doing, the more they're willing to pay, and Jon desperately needs that money. He's displaying the things on the large wooden table they have in the shop; he doesn't know why he tries to make it pretty, he doesn't even care if people find it pretty and well organised but his hands still unload the nails and horseshoes and the small daggers he has spent days working on. His fingers trail over the last dagger, sitting at the end of the basket; it's a small one, barely longer than a forearm, the blade so small. Part of him wants to put it on the table, part of him wants to proudly show it but some other part of him also tells me that he should keep it hidden. It's not for show, and Jon keeps it at the end of the box, pushing under the wooden table with his foot.

There's already a large number of customers coming in and Jon feels less nervous as they do, but there's an uneasy feeling settling inside his chest. Like something is tugging at his chest and he wishes it would go, but it stays, and Jon doesn't know what it is. He seems to never be able to focus completely, messes up giving people the right change three times, and Jon is confused why he's so nervous. They've already sold three quarters of the nails displayed, most of the horseshoes are gone, and people have been complimenting him about his work on the dagger. Things are going very well. So why is he so nervous ? He tries to not show it, to keep it together, especially when he spots a soldier approaching the small shop. Jon's hands are clenched in his back, as he watches the man study his creation. Jon has never seen him before; the man is tall, older than him, he looks strong too, and Jon sees a sigil embroidered on his tunic, a black broken wheel on green fabric, and Jon suddenly realizes he's one of the Waynwoods.

«Your work is excellent, boy.» The man says and Jon can't help but bow his head.

«Thank you, sir.»

« You should be proud, boy. » The man continues and Jon looks up at the man. A flash of red catches Jon's eyes from behind the man. « I've seen very few craftsmanship this good this far north. »

« Thank you very much, sir. » Jon repeats. He's about to test his luck and ask the man if he'd like to buy it, but a girl suddenly came into his view, from behind the man's shoulder and Jon's words die in his mouth, as his heart stops for a second. A flash of a woman standing on a shore comes to him but it's gone when he sees her.

He sees her hair first, red like a piece of scolding iron, then her eyes, icy blue, and Jon's heart beats again when she speaks, a voice so soft he thinks he might be dying. 

« Have you found something, Lord Waynwood ? » There's a smile at the end of her sentence, and Jon exhales. Perhaps too loudly, because that's when the girl looks at him, and he sees something in her eyes, and Jon realizes he knows her. He knows her, he does, he's certain of it. He knows her, he knows her hair is smooth and he knows she smells like sea salt and rosemary and something else he can't quite pinpoint yet, he knows that if he were to reach out he would find her skin smooth and soft and warm.

«Indeed, I have, Lady Sansa. » The Lord speaks up and it draws the girl's attention away from Jon –  _ Lady Sansa _ , Jon thinks. The name tastes familiar on his tongue.

Lord Waynwood holds the dagger higher and the blade catches a ray of sunlight and Jon doesn't miss the way Sansa's eyes look at the blade and then quickly back at him. The feeling is back, the one from earlier, the one that tugs at his insides, but it's different now. He can't explain but his heartbeat is getting steadier as she looks at him.

« Are you the one behind such work, blacksmith? » She asks him directly, and her voice is soft again, much stronger.

«Aye, my lady. » He bows his head again, but still holds her gaze – and he doesn't miss her smile when she holds his. She seems to study him, and he feels like a prey, like he is going to get caught – but he wouldn't mind.

«What's your name, boy? » Lord Waynwood asks him, and Jon suddenly remembers him. He clears his throat and tears his eyes off of the young girl.

« Jon, my lord. » The absence of middle name hurts on his lips, and he doesn't catch the way the Lord raises an eyebrow at his answer. He follows the man's eyes towards the dagger.

« This is some great work, Jon. » Lord Waynwood says. « We just might bring you with us when we leave after the nuptials. » He adds with a smile towards Sansa, who only manages to fake a smile.

Jon is about to show him gratitude for such an offer, but a young man appears at Sansa's side and suddenly Jon feels his blood boiling at the sight.

« Father, we thought we had lost you! » The young man says at Lord Waynwood. « What have you found? »

« Would you look at this, Harold? » Lord Waynwood shows the blade to his son. « This young man ought to come work for us! »

The young Lord, Harold Waynwood, studies the blade for a while, but then lets out a dry scoff. « That would be quite a waste, Father. This is nothing particular. »

Jon's heart sink at his words, and he tries to not punch the young lord in his face, his nails digging into his palms behind his back.

« I find it quite a beautiful blade, my lord. » Sansa speaks and Jon turns to her again, and he can't help but notice how hard her face has become, a fortress has been put up, and even Jon can't figure out what she means. « You'd be fortunate enough to have a young man like him crafting your swords. »

Jon wants to thank her, and he hopes his eyes does, in the look he sends her. « We already have capable blacksmith in our town, lady Sansa. You'll soon see for yourself that our people are capable of producing better blades than this one. » Harold says, his tone proud and strong. He's looking down on Sansa in a way Jon despises, and he wants nothing more than to grab his dagger and plant it in Harold's heart. There's a tension in the air, and Jon doesn't know what's worse, the way Lord Waynwood is fidgeting on his feet or the way Sansa and Harold seem keen on holding each other's eyes in a staring contest. Or the way Jon seems to have found himself in a conflict that doesn't involve him. Jon keeps his eyes on Sansa, and he sees something flash in her eyes, as she keeps looking at Harold. Something tough, hard, sharp.

«I guess you are right, my lord. » Sansa finally answers after a while. « A blade is just a blade. What matters is who wields it. »

With that, she turns on her heels and the three men can only stare at her as she puts more distance between her and them, her hair looking like deep red waves in the light.

~~

Sansa hates him, she hates Harold Waynwood, she realizes this about five minutes into her first conversation with him. He doesn't seem to care much for anyone else but him, and Sansa finds herself avoiding him at all costs, unless absolutely necessary. She pretends to walk in the fields, headaches, exhaustion, anything to avoid spending a minute of her time with the young lord. She quickly learns that if there's one place Harold Waynwood will never be found it’s at the common hall. The common hall is the tunnel where the common people come to give their products to the castle; barrels of grain and buckets of meat come through the tunnel every day for the people in the castle, and as a child, Sansa used to watch people coming in and out, dreaming of leaving with them. But that dream died a long time go, and she's not a child anymore.

But now, it's been only a week since the Waynwoods arrived and Sansa finds herself in the common hall. She had managed to avoid her mother's request of taking Harold for a ride in the woods near the castle; Sansa had rolled her eyes and muttered she'd rather get stumped by her horse's hooves, which her mother Lady Catelyn had been very displeased. She has tried to tell her mother how much the young Lord is despicable, how he treats the maids, servants, even his parents at times, and how much Sansa wishes she had never met him. As she settles in the large utility room, she takes in the smell of iron and strong leather; it's quiet, there are leather pans drying on high racks, and Sansa settles between two, pulling her knees to her chest. Her dress will get dirty, she'll smell of leather later, but she doesn't care. Peace and quiet is all she wants.

She doesn't know how long she stays there, doesn't know when she's fallen asleep, but she's woken up by the sound of the door opening and she hears steps coming in and there are voices from outside. She thinks she hears her name being spoken in the distance but she's trying to focus on the steps coming closer to where she is. She can see the boots of the person, black leather boots, edging towards her, and Sansa doesn't move. She is sitting up slightly, and her heart is beating faster and faster, she doesn't want to be found, she doesn't want to come out of this room. The body of whom the steps belongs to finally come into view and her breath gets caught in her throat.

Jon stands there, a large wooden box in his hands, and there's dirt on his face, Sansa feels compelled to touch it but doesn't. She only sits up, but remains on the floor. The blacksmith. The boy from the market sale. Sansa remembers him quite vividly, for all her dreams now seem to be filled with his face and his curls and his dark grey eyes. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but the moment she had laid eyes on him, something had hit her in her chest, like a feeling of remembrance. Like she had known him, had seen him before but couldn't remember from where. At first, he had looked like the face she had seen when she had imagined what death would bring her, but she had dismissed the thought quickly enough. But now, she was looking at him, and he was looking at her too, and maybe, just maybe… 

Jon opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by a woman's voice coming from the door. « Oy! Boy! Have y'a seen the young lady Sansa? Her mother's been askin' fo' her !»

«No, I just got here. » Jon answers and the voice doesn't say anything so Sansa supposes the woman has left. Jon turns back to her, and for a second, she doesn't know what to say. She should thank him, she should, that's what a lady should do but she keeps looking at him, unable to say a word.  _ He's really handsome _ , she thinks, and strong too. There's beauty in his features, he doesn't look like a boy, he looks like someone who has seen the world and seen wars and battles. His grey eyes are soft and calm, and she wonders what they look like if he was to face the sun.

« My lady, are you alright? » He asks her after a while, and that's when she realizes she's still sitting on the floor.

Quite shyly, she clears her throat and rises, trying to flatten her dress where creases had appeared from her nap. « Quite alright, thank you sir. » She answers.

« I am no sir, my lady. » He says, and his voice is sad. « I am just a blacksmith. »

« You're the boy from the market. » She says, and she thinks it’s silly, he probably doesn't remember her, but she hopes he does.

« Aye, my lady. I didn't think you'd remember me.» He chuckles softly, and he goes to drop the box on one of the stone counters against the wall. It's a box full of horseshoes, she notices and she wonders if he's the one who made all of them.

« I meant what I said at the market. I found it quite beautiful. » She says.

« You found a blade beautiful, my lady? » Jon turns back to her, his hands now free, but he immediately puts them behind his back and Sansa wishes she could have gotten a good look at them. There's a smirk on his face though as he looks at her.

«I find most things beautiful. » She doesn't know why she's talking to a complete stranger, doesn't know why she wants to talk to him. She was seeking peace and quiet in coming here, and now that's ruined and somehow, she's not bothered by it.

« I suppose there are beauty in many things, my lady. »

« You don't have to call me my lady all the time. » She scoffs, rolling her eyes.

« It's the proper way of calling you, my lady. » Jon answers and he lowers his eyes to the floor. « You are a lady and I am only a blacksmith. »

The words pierce her heart and she's not sure why she's so hurt by those words. Trying to push it away, she clears her throat once more. « But we are human beings, are we not? Our status might not be the same, but the blood in our veins is of the same red. Why should you be treating me differently when we are the same at the core? »

Jon raises his eyes at her, and for a second, he studies her and she wonders what he's thinking, so she tries to stand as tall as she can, tries to look stronger than she is, hopefully so he doesn't think her a complete idiot.

«I suppose some of the words you speak are true, my lady. But that still doesn't mean I should call something else. »

Sansa takes a few steps towards him until she's only a couple of feet away from him. He's not that tall she realizes, and she's very tall for her age, tall enough that they are at eye level once she enters his personal space. Because she is close, so close, she can catch the smell of coal and cold embers and wet stone he and she can see the spot of dirt on his cheek more precisely and once again, she wants to touch it. And she does. She shouldn’t, she doesn’t know him - she’ll learn it’s half a lie, because his skin is familiar underneath her fingertips and the feeling it brings to her soul isn’t unknown. Wetting her thumb with her tongue, she then rubs at the spot on his cheek, and she smirks when it starts to fade, his tan skin coming through – or maybe it's for the gasp Jon lets out once she touches him.

« There.» She whispers. «There _ is _ beauty in all things it seems. »

« My lady, I don't -... »

« Sansa. » She interrupts him. « My name is Sansa. »

Jon looks at her, with those grey eyes, wide open like a deer caught in a trap, and for a second, she forgets the world around them. She can only see his eyes, and she feels seen for the first time, alive for once. She looks at him and it’s like she’s thrown into another world, where she’s not a lady and he’s not a blacksmith and there’s nothing keeping them from knowing each other, or even… She doesn't know why this stranger affects her so much, but he doesn't feel like a stranger, no, he feels like someone she knows, he feels familiar, he feels like someone she has loved before. 

« I am to be married soon. » She says, and she doesn't know why she's pouring her heart out to him, but she can't stop herself. «Have you ever been in love ? »

Jon sighs and she feels the air on her skin as he does, and it brings life back into her whole body and she doesn't know what drives her to this, but she wants to know. She wants to know what it feels like to do something because she wants to do it, and not because someone asks it of her. That's why she kisses Jon, that's why she crosses the distance between them and presses her lips against his. It's quick, she pulls away before he has time to kiss her back, but she's breathless, her heart is about to jump out of her chest. She should feel ashamed, or at least a bit shy about what she just did, but the only thing she feels is _ good _ .

«Sansa, I- » Jon speaks up but he never finishes his sentence, because Sansa captures the unspoken words with her lips again, and this time his hands are at her waist and she sighs against his mouth because they feel strong against her frail body but they’re gentle - later she’ll see the charcoal traces on her gown and it’ll be what she wears as the water surrounds her. He bites her bottom lip and she gasps and he takes that as an invitation to invade her mouth with his tongue and Sansa feels like a wolf battling for dominance, the blood rushing through her body like electricity, and maybe she wins, only for the groan escaping Jon's mouth when she bites his bottom lip this time. He pulls away and she sees a small bruise at the corner of his mouth, where her teeth just were, and her chest swells with a pride she’s never felt before. Her senses are gone, and she leans in to kiss him again, because god,  _ this _ , this feels like nothing she has ever felt before. It's wonderful, exhilarating, it's everything.

Jon collects his sense before she doe however, because he doesn't let her lean in again, doesn't let her touch him again, he takes a big step away from her, and Sansa is suddenly filled with pain and hurt and anger. Is she really that bad? Is it too hard to see her for someone worth loving, worth having? Is it too hard for someone to want her? Is this always how it's going to be?

« My lady, I don't think this is right. You're to be married and - » Jon starts but Sansa cuts him.

«If you were to tell anyone I kissed you, nobody would believe you. » She retorts, and it hurts her. « Nobody would believe a commoner over me. » Her words are hurtful, she doesn't mean any of it, doesn't think less of hi, but she means them to be hurtful, because she wants him to hurt, she wants him to be hurt.

« Lady Sansa, I wouldn't-,» Jon stops himself this time. She sees his hands at his side shaking and she wonders if he's nervous. « I wouldn't want you to do something you regret, my lady. Rumors spread easily and it would compromise your honor. »

She lets his words reach her brain, and she wonders if he has no sense of self-preservation at all. If someone were to find out about the kiss, he would surely be punished, not her. She would get away with it scorch-free, being the daughter of one of the richest Lord's of the county has this advantage, but him... He could lose his job, he would be left with nothing. Because she had been selfish.

«What about  _ your _ honor? » She asks him.

At this, he scoffs lightly, but there's still sadness in his eyes as he looks down at his feet. « I don't have that much anyway. »

Sansa looks at him and she sees a boy, barely older than her, who didn't take advantage of her when she literally throws herself at him. She doesn't know many boys his age who would have done the same. « I believe you to be very honourable, Jon. »

He looks up at her and his eyes are blazing and shivers run down her whole body as he stares at her for a second. And it's there again, the feeling from earlier, this feeling of being seen, she feels alive under his gaze and even more when he smiles at her. « Thank you, Sansa. »

Her name is on his tongue, and it brings her back to only a minute ago when he had said her name for the first time, and she had dismissed it then, but now, the sound is like music to her ears. She smiles back at him, her heart full. « You're welcome Jon.» 

She wants to add something, asking him when she'll meet him again, but a large commotion suddenly erupts from outside the room and they both turn their heads towards the noise.

« I should probably go. » Sansa whispers. She doesn't want to, she doesn't want to leave this room, doesn't want to leave the peace and quiet , she doesn't want to go back and see the people outside who are going to ask things of her. No, she wants to stay here, with Jon, she wants to ask him if he likes lemoncakes like she does, she wants to ask him if he is the one who made all the horseshoes he brought, she wants to ask him if he's ever going to come back.

« Me too, » Jon says, turning back to her, « Mormont will be wondering where I am. »

She wants to ask him who's Mormont, and she wants to know all about the man, she wants to ask him a million questions, she wants to know everything. Anything it takes to make him stay. But they can't. The solace of the room is only temporary and he's only staying this long because she's the daughter of the Lord of the castle and he'll lose his head if he was to disrespect her, so really, they  _ should _ go, Sansa thinks, but neither of them makes a move. 

Sansa clears her throat quietly, and straightens the creases on her dress. “I am sorry for kissing you.” She feels Jon’s eyes on her but she doesn't look up, she’s not sure she can look at him and bear knowing it's the last time she's seeing him. 

“I am not.” At this, she has to look up and she's met with grey eyes looking at her so softly she's suddenly taken by shyness. She wishes she could kiss him again, but she knows this time she wouldn't want to stop. The thought brings a blush to her cheeks and she looks down again trying to hide it but it's wasted effort when Job grabs her hand gently. She watches him as he drops a kiss on her knuckles and for a second she almost forgets to breathe properly, focused on the feeling of his lips to her skin, how sweet it feels. 

“Take care of yourself, my lady. “ He tells her, a whisper against her skin - later, after a never ending supper, it’ll be his voice she hears as she drifts to sleep. 

He's off in a moment, not without a last glance, a last smile, and she stays there, standing alone in between the drying leather, staring at the space he occupied only moments ago. She brings her hand up and brush her knuckles with her own lips; maybe if she can still feel him there then maybe it wouldn't feel so much like a dream. 

~~ 

Jon turns again on the thick layer of skins he calls a bed, and sighs. He doesn't know what time it is but it's been dark outside for a while now and judging by the snores of his uncle Benjen and how deep they are, it must be late, very late. But still, Jon can't find sleep. His body is exhausted, always is, but his mind is restless, always going back to this morning when he had met Sansa in the utility room of the castle. The thought of it is enough to bring a smile to his face; he had been shocked at first, finding her on the floor, visibly sleepy and hiding, but the most surprising part had been her kissing him. That had made his brain completely forget everything he knew. The sudden pressure of her lips against his had been such a surprise, he hadn't known what to do, had barely had time to register what was happening before she was off of him again, only a few feet away -  _ too far _ \- and it had left him wanting more. More of her, more of her lips, more of her touch, more of her warmth. He had tried to be reasonable though, desperately tried to come up with an excuse, a remembrance of their status, of his condition, anything, but then she had kissed him once more and all reason was lost. The instant her lips had met his again, he had just known no feeling in the world would ever come to feel as good as this, so he had just held her, as long as he could before someone barged in surely to cut his hands for it. He shouldn't have kissed her back, nor touched her, but god, she had felt so good, so sweet, so warm against him pressed like that, he had wanted to hold her forever, keep her there with him. It had felt so easy too, holding her, his body had acted on instinct, responding to memories he didn't know he had. But his hands knew the curve of her waist already and he knew how her lips tasted too, and when she had bared her teeth and went for his bottom lip, then he could swear she had done that before, but that wasn't possible, no.  _ Another life maybe _ , Jon thinks, and he chuckles because has he gone mad? But maybe he has gone mad, maybe he has gone mad the moment she kissed him, or maybe it was the moment he had laid eyes on her at the market. Either way, a part of him had stayed with her then, and then again today, and maybe that's why madness had easily found its way in his veins.

  
  


With another sigh, he shakes his head and turns on his side, shutting his eyes once more trying to conjure sleep. Immediately, images of Sansa come to him, and he's tired, he's tired of pushing them away tonight so he indulges in them for a moment. He sees her smile, the pink flush on her cheeks, her sweet hands on him, her lips on his, her blue eyes staring back at him, soft and - no. He can't. That's not his place. He isn't the boy meant for her, he isn't a lord, he isn't the son of one, he is just a boy trying to survive in a world that isn't kind to people like him. He can never be with her. Too many things come into play. He has to stop this growing infatuation of his before it becomes worse, it won't get him anywhere.

It's easier said than done, Jon realizes, for only a couple of days after, he finds himself staring at her blue eyes again. It's late in the morning and if it wasn't for the chilly air of late fall then he would be caught in a puddle of his own sweat for being near the fire since dawn, his arms are aching, but he has to get this done. A short clear of a throat breaks the rythmic sound of his hammer on the stone and he turns around and for a second, he thinks he's dreaming. Sansa is standing there, a vision of beauty in her fine clothes and her fur cape, she screams royalty, and he wants to run to her and find her skin underneath the clothes and he stops his brain to go further down this line because  _ no _ , just no. He grabs a cloth to clean his hands slightly and walks towards her. In the back, he sees a man standing quite far from them, but he's looking at them both without blinking and Jon recognizes him as a Stark soldier, probably here to accompany her.

« Hello, Jon. » She says and there's a smirk tugging the corner of her lips, like she knows something he doesn't and it intrigues him greatly.

« My lady. » He bows his head slightly, but he doesn't miss the way she rolls her eyes at his words. « What can I do for you? »

« You have made quite an impression on Lord Waynwood. Before they leave, he would like you to make a few things. »

She extends her hand, in which she holds a piece of rolled up parchment and Jon takes it and quickly unrolls it, finding sketches of a round piece of metal with the Waynwood sigil and a few other things. Jon rolls the parchment again and nods. « When does he want them? »

« They're leaving in three days. » Sansa answers. « Will you be able to fulfill them? »

Jon nods, and he narrows his eyes at her. « How come it's Lord Stark's daughter coming herself to request this of me though? »

« No maid knew who Lord Waynwood was talking about, but I did so I volunteered. » She prompts her chin up, the smirk on her face still there. He wants to kiss the expression off of her face, he wants to attack her with his lips until she's not smirking, until she's –  _ Jon, stop _ .

« So kind of you, my lady. » He says, smirking himself.

« We'll see you in three days then ? » She asks and there's something hidden in her voice, an underlying question, a feeling he has never heard of, but he knows it's there.

«You'll see me in three days, my lady. » He says, with a slight bow and she doesn't wince at the formality this time and he wonders if she can hear that he means in an other way.

« I am looking forward to see your creations, then. » She says and she gathers her hands in front of her, clasping them tightly together. « I am sure they'll be of great beauty. »

Jon's cheeks heat up and he's certain she can notice the blush on them, even under all the lingering dirt and charcoal and low stubble he has on his face. «Thank you, Sansa. » He says and she smiles at him, and he loves the sight in front of him, he wishes she could smile at him for all eternity.

She curtsies and he wants to tell her she doesn't have to, she doesn't have to do that with him, he's not important enough for her to curtsy at him, but he lets her, not wanting to disrupt her elegant moves and the way her copper hair falls as she turns around. Something about this particular sight is familiar to him, like he's already watched her leave a hundred times before, but he knows it can't be. She turns back to him one more time and flashes him a smile and his heart sighs in his chest as she does and he doesn't even fight the smile growing on his face. He sees her smile and he only thinks how bright it is, how lovely she looks in the light. He doesn't see the dubious look the soldier shoots them, and later, when he's holding her wet numb body to his chest as tears run down his cheeks, he won't remember either.

  
  


Three days later, as promised, he's there, walking up the common hall making his way towards the castle, the gifts in hand, carefully wrapped in dry pelts Mormont found in the shop. He takes his steps towards the soldier guarding the entrance of the castle where the Stark family and their guests are staying ; no one from the village is allowed there unless summoned or asked by a lord, and Jon wonders if they know of Lord Waynwood’s request. He could tell them about how it's Sansa who summoned him, how he's here because of Lord Waynwood's presents, but is he ready to go there? He wouldn't be lying technically, but he knows he doesn't have a place in those walls. He's never been in the castle, wouldn't know his way in and wouldn't be able to lie his way in, wouldn't want to lose his head for a risk like this.

« Who wishes to enter? » The soldier on his left asks.

« Jon, Jeor Mormont's apprentice. » He speaks, making his voice sound strong and confident. « I was summoned three days ago as a request from Lord Waynwood. Lady Sansa came to the shop and she said that I had to be here in three days time, before Lord Waynwood and his family leave. »

The soldier looks at him and then tells him to wait. He goes in the front door and leaves for a moment. It's only a few minutes but to Jon, it seems like forever; the soldier reappears and he gestures for Jon to follow him. Jon walks behind him, all of his steps feel dangerous, like he's walking on a battlefield. His steps echo against the hard stones and he can't help but look everywhere around him. The walls are so big and high, and the walls are adorned with armors and Jon wants to look at them all, wants to see all the work behind them but he follows the soldier still. They reach a great vast room, and there are tapestries on the walls this time, and Jon gives all of them a once over until his eyes fall over a large group of people in what appears to be a vast living room. He knows it's the Sark family, he's heard tales and people talk in the village of course, but now that they're all in front of him, he thinks the tales didn't even come close to the truth. He sees Sansa in the corner and she raises her head at the sound of footsteps and he sees the moment her gaze softens and gosh, how he wishes he could cross the space in between them to go and kiss her now.

« Lord Stark, the blacksmith's apprentice has brought the gifts for Lord Waynwood. » The soldier announces and then steps aside slightly to reveal him and he's never felt more exposed than now. He feels all of their eyes on him and for a second, he thinks he has no right to be here, he doesn't fit, of course, he doesn't. This place is grand and beautiful and full of colors and he's dark and dirty and impure and he shouldn't be here.

«I think they're still making arrangements for their departure. » The oldest man says, Lord Stark, Jon guesses. Lord Stark looks him over and Jon feels even more out of place. « Come here boy, let's see what you've got. »

Jon's heart is beating so loud in his chest as he steps forward, still holding the gifts. He risks a glance towards Sansa who shows a small smile, and Jon's nerves waver slightly, but they're not gone completely. He stands in front of Lord Stark, and he unwraps the dry skin and suddenly he feels ashamed for how bad, how rugged it looks; Lord Stark doesn't say anything as Jon shows his creations. He had taken great attention at creating the exact vision of Lord Waynwood, but now, he feels like a little boy wanting to make his father proud. Ned Stark takes one of the swords he made and grabs it by the pommel, giving it a good look. Jon can't help but watch him as he does, this man, Sansa's father and he can't help looking over at Sansa, who's standing a few feet behind her father. She's looking at her father too, but the minute his eyes are on her, her gaze shifts to him and he tries to ask her if he's in trouble with a look – it's silly he realizes, because he barely knows her, has seen her a total amount of three times at this point, but still, he looks at her intently, and she blinks a few times and gives him the smallest nod and he thinks he's safe for now. Later, before it's all over, he'll try to remember if any of the Starks present had noticed this silent exchange but it won't matter in the end.

« Robb, come look at this. » Lord Stark says. A tall young man comes and Jon finally starts to take a look at the other people present. Robb, Sansa's older brother he will learn, walks up to his father and takes the blade in his hands to examine it as Lord Stark goes to take a look at the other ones.

« It's a fine blade. » Robb speaks up, and his voice is light but confident, clear as the light creeping from the windows, and Jon sees the way his blue eyes, the same as Sansa's, glide over the blade and he has a smile on his lips, and the nerves in Jon's stomach settles a bit more. « My sister wasn't lying when she said you were good. »

«Thank you, my lord. » Jon says but his heart is beating like a drum in his chest and he thinks he might go deaf because of it, because she talked about him? To her family? Jon doesn't have that much faith in the God above but right there, he prays that he doesn't die on the spot from the impact of this information. « Jeor Mormont taught me everything. » Jon manages to speak the words but they come as crooked and breathless and he hates himself for trying.

« Dad, can I see it? » A young girl comes up behind Robb and Jon thinks she must be Sansa's sister, even though they looked nothing alike. The girl has dark brown hair that is pulled away from her face and put up in a very intricate style but a few strands at the front are flying through, and Jon keeps his smile to himself as she steps forward, her eyes settled on the blades.

« Arya, » a woman near Sansa says in a warning voice. Their lady mother. Her reddish brown hair and blue eyes betray her identity and Jon thinks she must be their lady mother for how much Sansa looks like her.

« What? » Arya sighs. « I just want to look at it, mom. »

Lord Stark hands the blade over to his daughter with care. Jon looks at them all, he shouldn't be here, he thinks again, he's not meant to be here, he feels like he's intruding something private and personal and gosh how he longs for the familiar warmth of the shop and the sound of his hammer and the feeling of his pincers in his hands. He doesn't want to be here anymore, he had longed to see Sansa again, yes, but now, he wishes he could be miles away from here.

« Did you really make it? » Arya asks and she's talking to Jon directly, and he can see she's sincere, she's not asking to mock him, she genuinely wants to know.

« I did, my lady. »

« And you made all of this in three days?» Arya continues, letting her fingers test the edges of the blade.

« Indeed, my lady. »

She nods, considering his answer, and then her grey eyes are set on him. « Could you make one for me? »

« Arya! » Lady Stark snaps again, and this time, she's crossing the space to stand near her daughter. « We've already talked about this. »

« It's just one sword, mom! » Arya retorts. « Dad, please, can I have one? »

« Arya... » Lord Stark starts, and Jon can only watch as the Stark parents seem to try and reason with their young daughter about an argument they seemed to have had a few times before. 

Jon adverts his gaze though, not wanting to appear like he's intruding, and once again, his eyes find Sansa, and as he looks at her, her tall silhouette standing so beautiful, he stares at her hands, clasped together again, and he wonders if it's a nervous tick of hers, and he furrows his brows slightly at her, a question for her in his eyes. She notices and she tilts her head just a little at him and shakes her head, and lets her hands fall to her sides. Again she smiles at him, and it's a bit bigger than the former one, but still restraint, and he understands why and he tells himself that he shouldn't be looking at her, he shouldn't, she's not his to look at. But he can't stop himself; her blue eyes, the small wrinkle at the edge of her smile, the few strands of her hair falling on her shoulders and down her chest, they're not his. Her soft hands that held him so tightly, the memory of her lips on his, the warmth of her body against his, the roughness she had shown when she had bitten his lip,  _ these _ , these are his. Even if a crowd of beautiful women were standing in the same room, he would still look at her, only her, _ always her _ . So let the arrows come for him, let the horses come through the forest for him, let the noose tighten around his neck, because he doesn't care. She's his, and not even death could keep them apart. 

« What's your name, boy? » It's Lady Stark's question that brings him back to reality.

« Jon, Lady Stark. » He answers, and he hates how frail his voice sounds, how weak it is.

« We thank you for your service and will make sure that the Lord Waynwood receives them and know you completed the task in the given time. You may leave now. »

His heart sinks and he can only bow his head and present his respect before turning around, putting distance between him and the Starks. He'll never know about the look on Sansa's face when he completely left the room, he'll never know how she took a step forward and caused her sister to look at her and narrow her eyes in confusion. He'll never know that this was the moment everything started to crumble. 

~~

Sansa is sewing in her bedroom, enjoying some peace and quiet finally. She's exhausted after these days of tumult in the castle, but thank the Lord, the Waynwoods left at long last. No more stupid horse rides around the country or in the forest or near the river with Harold Waynwood and his parents, no more suppers where she had to endure his presence and stupid conversations. Peace. Exactly what she wanted. She had a few moments of peace though, in the midst of it all, and she smiles as she connects the memories of calm to the times she saw Jon. She remembers how handsome he had looked at the shop, all sweaty and a few spots of coal on his face. She had had to throw a bit of tantrum to go there herself – which had raised a concerned eyebrow from her mother but Sansa had been too occupied pleading with her father to notice. But Lord Eddard Stark had agreed, probably so she would stop whining about the fact that no servants would know, she knew where the blacksmith shop was and it would go faster and days later, when she'll have made the final decision to go through with it, she'll regret ever opening her mouth.

Pulling her thread through the light fabric, she remembers seeing him in the workshop. She had meant to call for him at first but the words had stilled in her throat when she had laid eyes upon him. There he was, in the late morning light, a strong silhouette amongst the smoke of the workshop, a vision of wonder, and she couldn't have helped but to watch him. She had watched his calloused hands, his muscles as he gripped the hammer and moved it so swiftly and gracefully, he hadn't been wearing a long sleeve tunic like that time in the utility room, no, his arms had been bare, and she had wondered if he couldn't feel the cold air surrounding them. She remember how comfortable he had looked and how she had loved to see him that way, at ease, in his own element. He was beautiful, his dark curls wild and free bouncing as he moved like a god in every way. And today, gosh, he had looked so beautiful today. She had been surprised to see him there, it's true that she hadn't thought about when he would actually come to give the gifts but she remembers feeling him entering the room. Thinking about it, how she had felt it in her bones that he was suddenly here, like her whole body was screaming to be near him. And she had wanted to, gosh she had so badly wanted to cross the space between them and ease his anxiety. She had been able to feel it sipping through him as the rest of her family kept talking, she had so badly wanted to reach out for him, take his hand, ease him, but she couldn't.

A knock at her door surprises her and she quickly allows whoever is standing outside to enter. Her mother enters, a soft smile on her face which Sansa returns gladly.

« I hope I am not disturbing you, love. » Catelyn Stark tells her daughter as she strides towards her. Sansa loves her mother, has always felt the closest to her ever since she was a little girl. She shows her mother the work she's done so far, just like she's used to. « That's beautiful, darling. »

« Thank you, mother. » Sansa answers, turning back to the thread and needle on her lap. « I was hoping to gift it to Father for his name day. »

« I'm sure he'll love it my dear. » Her mother waits a moment before speaking up again. « I wanted to ask you something, my love. Something regarding Harold Waynwood. »

  
  


At this, Sansa pauses her movements, and tries to think quickly. What is her mother going to ask her? What is she going to say? By the Lord, she wishes she could think of something, of an excuse, because she is doing good, she doesn't want to talk about stupid Harold and his stupid self. But she can't say that, not to her mother, not to anyone ; so she gathers herself and remembers her courtesies, picking her needle again before speaking.

  
  


« What is it, mother? » She asks, her voice soft and sweet; she's learned from a very young age to use manners to her advantage.

  
  


« Your father and I... we were wondering what you thought of him. » Catelyn asks as she starts to slowly play with her daughter's hair, quietly braiding a strand of hair near Sansa's temple.

  
  


Sansa wants to scream and roll her eyes, and tell her that she hates the man, she hates his arrogance, the way he talks, the way he looks, she hates how mean he is to the servants, how mean he was to Arya when they went on a ride near the river, she wants to scream how repulsed she is at the thought that one day she'll be linked to him, she wants to yell that she hates him, she hates him, she hates him, she hates him and his family and that she never wants to leave this castle, her home, never wants to leave her family. But she can't. So she shrugs and keeps her voice calm. « I don't know, mother. I am not sure what I am supposed to think of him.»

  
  


« Of course sweetheart. Your father and I were just thinking about the future, and you're getting to an age where we have to worry about your future. Who is going to take care of you when your father and I won't be there anymore and. » Cately says, her tone very grave, and Sansa stills her hands on the fabric. « We were thinking... maybe you would like to think of becoming Lady Waynwood someday. »

  
  


_ But I am a Stark,  _ Sansa thinks _. How could I ever stop being a Stark? _ She doesn't want to become a Waynwood, she doesn't want to be anything else other than a Stark. Fear overcomes her at the thought of leaving, leaving the castle, her family, her parents, her siblings. She's always felt so unlike them at times but the thought of leaving them, not seeing their beautiful faces everyday... She turns to her mother, and hopes she doesn't see the fear written on her face. « But I would have to leave you mother, and leave father and Robb and Arya and Bran and little Rickon... I don't want that. »

  
  


Catelyn takes her daughter's face in her hands, and drops a kiss on her forehead. «My sweet child. You may look like me, but you are your father's daughter through and through. » She rubs her thumb across Sansa's cheek, like she used to when Sansa was a child and was afraid and the young girl can't help but wonder if her mother knows the deep secrets in her heart. « Yet the time comes when each of us have to do our duty, my darling, no matter how much it costs us. »

  
  


The words make their way to Sansa but she doesn't want them. She wants to give them back to her mother, tell her to keep them or throw them away. But Sansa can't say anything more on the matter, the decision is not up to her in that matter. Nothing is ever up to her anyway, her mother is only telling her she realizes, she doesn't care about Sansa's opinion of Harold Waynwood, no matter how despicable the young man is. For a second, Sansa wonders if she could tell her mother about Jon, about the boy she's found herself drawn to for some unknown reason.

  
  


« Mother, did you love Father when you married him? » She asks, testing the waters.

  
  


Catelyn stares at her daughter, a feeling of remembrance crossing her face. « No, I didn’t. I was supposed to marry another, who was killed in a battle. And your father was the next best choice so that was the match settled for me. I had never seen him before, and yet, as the years passed we've managed to build our love, nurture it, cherish it and look at us now, » Catelyn says, with a teary smile and Sansa feels tears coming as well, «I did my duty towards my family, and it has given me the most wonderful thing I could have ever asked for. »

  
  


The tears fall on Sansa's cheeks and she's quick to wipe them. She's so strong, her lady mother, a real force to be reckoned with, but still, the thought is repulsive to Sansa's mind. How could she marry someone she doesn't love? How could she marry someone as mean and hurtful and awful as Harold Waynwood? Sansa spends a minute thinking about living with him, being married to him, having to share his bed, and she wants to throw up at the thought; she'd rather die. She wishes she could say as much to her mother, explain that no, she's not strong enough to handle this kind of life. Harold is not Lord Stark, doesn't even begin to compare to the best man in Sansa's life in any way, and Sansa knows that she'll never have what her parents managed to build during all those years. The words are right there, ready to be spoken, to cross her lips, but she doesn't speak her mind.

  
  


« I understand, mother. » Sansa says instead with a smile and her hand on her mother's. « I understand perfectly. »

  
  


Lady Catelyn looks at her daughter and Sansa wonders once again what she sees, what do people see when they look at her? Do they see her? Do they see her blue eyes, her red hair, and see an almost replica of her mother? Do they see her and see a title and wealth and lands? Do they see her soul, how empty and sad it is? Do they see how she's longing to belong? As her mother kisses her forehead before crossing her room to leave, Sansa thinks they probably don't.

~~

Jon is carrying a box of hooks and nails on his way to the castle, taking careful steps in the mud; the last thing he wants right now is to sleep in the wet brown filthy mud. Jon is exhausted, has been for a week, he knows why, he hasn't been able to sleep since he left the castle a week ago, since he last saw Sansa. For a week, Jon had dwelled on the whole moment every day, keeping him from peaceful sleep, and from doing his job correctly. He hadn't been able to forget a minute of the whole thing, and when he finally found sleep, Sansa's face kept haunting him. In his dreams, she is smiling at him, leading him through a field, in the distance he can see a mountain top, covered in snow and he's happy and Sansa is looking back at him, grinning, her hair looking like fire in the light, and remembering the dream brings a smile to his face. But remembering also brings pain, pain that he's not with her, pain that he's never going to see the mountain tops, iit's dreams. And dreams don't come true, Jon knows that.

He reaches the utility room, and opens the door with his back, and he wishes he hadn't, wishes he could have been prepared but he thinks he's never not going to be not surprised by her. When he spots her, she's sitting on top of the stone counter, next to other boxes of things she shouldn't sit by, they're dirty, and she's pure, he quickly thinks she doesn't belong in such a place, such a dark place. She raises her head before he's even fully entered and she immediately smiles, and Jon's heart swells because, how is he allowed to witness such a sight and not be damned?

« Took you long enough. » She says, as she jumps off the counter. Jon clears his throat, trying to not show how enticed he is by her, all of her; he closes the door behind him, and some of the sound is turned off, and maybe it's good, better, that way whatever happens here will remain here, untouched, uncorrupted, only between them.

« My lady... » Jon starts but Sansa is already near him, so close, close enough for her to breathe in her perfume, he detects rosemary, and a lingering scent of wheat, and something else. Before he can protest, she has the box in her hands and putting it away; and he wants to tell her no, she's not supposed to do this, she's not supposed to carry this dirty box that will surely spoil her beautiful dress, she's not and he wants to grab her hand and wipe away all the dirt already but he's frozen in his spot. And then she grabs his face and kisses him, those sweet lips of hers, and his hands are on her waist, like a sixth sense, like every time she's near him his body operates on its own, like his muscles have their own reflexes and he can't control himself anymore. But with the sweet taste of her lips against his, her body relaxed in his hands, her heartbeat against his chest, her fragrance surrounding him, he realizes he doesn't mind. He'll gladly die at her feet if it means he can have one more second of this, of her lips, of her heart, of her fragrance.

« I've missed you. » Jon whispers against her lips once they part for air.

« Have you? » She asks, and she sounds like a child, so angelic and Jon can't help but smile.

« I have. » He answers with a nod, and tucks her hair behind her ear, and doesn't miss the way she leans into his touch, not caring that there's dirt on his hands, no, she leans in regardless, indulging and Jon sighs because he's so gone for her, so gone for this girl he can't have.

« I've missed you too. » She says in return, and Jon feels his heart growing two sizes in his chest. She steps a breath away from him, and he immediately feels the difference, the shift in her stance, even though she's not gone from his touch, he can feel the tension now. « Jon... Do you think we're crazy? We don't know each other that much and yet... »

She needs not to say more, he understands. And yes, he supposes for some it would be crazy, two people barely knowing each other and yet so drawn to each other, feeling this... he doesn't even know how to call what he's feeling. Part of him wants to call it love, but it's stronger, bigger, more complicated than love. It's crazy, it is, there's no point in tiptoeing around the truth.

« It is. We're crazy. » He says, sighing and she sighs with him. There's a sadness in his voice, and it goes to her eyes too. « We're crazy, it's true, I don't know you and you don't know me, and I don't know how to explain what I feel towards you, but... I don't want to explain it because for me it's real. It's the realest feeling I've ever experienced in my entire life. »

Sansa wipes the tear on his cheek and it's not what he had planned, he hadn't planned to cry in front of this wonderful girl, but he hadn't planned to fall for her either. « I love you, Jon. » There's a tear on her cheek too, he smiles as he wipes it away, the salty liquid melting on his skin. No one has ever said that to him, no one, not even his uncle, not even himself. « I don't know how or why, but...I do.It's taken over me like a disease and I can't help it. »

Jon takes in her words, and it's crazy, crazy that he understands what she means, knows what she's feeling, like he's feeling the same as her, and he can't help it either.

«I love you too. » And the words are so easy on his tongue, like he has said them a hundred times before, and he hopes he will get to say them a hundred times over – he knows he won't, but she'll know in the end, and it's all that matters. « Ask me anything, I'm at your service. Whatever you want, I'll do it. » If he had a sword in hand, he would lay it down at her feet.

Sansa smiles and it's a sad one still, she steps away from him completely and he hates how empty and cold he suddenly feels at the loss; « There's nothing we can do. My parents have pretty much arranged the marriage already. I'm going to become Lady Waynwood soon enough and then I'll be off to his land and I hate to think that I am going to spend the rest of my life with this awful man! » She's crying fully now, and Jon wants nothing more than to reach out and hold her and let her tears fall on his skin and take her pain and make it his. He would do anything to stop her from hurting, anything to keep her happy, to keep her with him.

« I heard mother and father talk this morning. The Waynwoods are coming back in a week. » She announces and Jon feels hatred and anger rising within him. He doesn't want Sansa to go, doesn't want her to be married off to some lord he doesn't know or trust. Just the thought of her with another man drives him insane, and he clenches his fists to stop himself from hitting the wall.

« I'll kill him. » At this, Sansa turns to him, and for a second, something crosses her face but she shakes her head quickly, but Jon knows, he knows what it was and he knows that for a second, the shortest second, the thought sounded appealing.

«If you kill him, they'll kill you. » She says, her voice grave. « And if they kill you, I... » She never finishes her sentence, the words are left hanging in the air between them.

« Then, let's run away. » Jon suggests but he knows it's stupid because they can't. They'd be found before they even make it to the next town. She looks at him, and she's in his arms in no time and he takes a deep breath in, he wants to remember this, remember her.

« Oh Jon! » She weeps against his ear, and he can't help but bring her closer to him. He parts from her slightly, dropping a kiss to her forehead, and she looks up at him.

« A week. That's what you said ? » She nods at his words. « Then, if a week is all we have, well... let's have it... »

She seems to ponder over his words for a minute. « Do you mean... stay in this utility room for a week and forget the world ? »

He can't help but chuckle softly. « No, just... Just make sure that we get to see each other every day, this week, and make it count as much as possible. »

She listens to him and she shakes her head at him with a look of disbelief. She kisses him chastely and keeps her lips over his for a moment. « I wish I had known you sooner. »

Jon wishes it too, how he wishes he had known her longer, how he wishes she had come into his life at a better time. « In another life maybe. Maybe we'll get more time then. »

« You think there's something after death? » She asks, and he doesn't entirely know how they've come to talk about something as dark as this, but something about it is soothing, like they've done this a million times before. It feels natural to talk to Sansa, he could tell her everything, everything that matters.

« If it means I get to find you again, I'll believe anything. » He answers, and it's true. He'll believe anything for her. And it's stupid, and it's crazy and he's stupid and crazy for allowing himself to have his heart broken within a week, because it will, and he knows that he won't handle it, but he has to. A week. It's fine. He can handle it. As long as he has Sansa, he can handle it. 

~~

The week passes too quickly in Sansa's opinion; everyday, in the late morning, she makes her way to the gates of the castle, to the common hall, and everyday, she meets Jon in the utility room, and everyday, they spend the few minutes they have talking and kissing and sharing things that have happened. Sansa loves listening to Jon, his voice soothes her and when she falls asleep at night she'll replay the tales he tells her in her mind. She loves to remind herself of the way his curls look, of the way his lips curl a bit downwards when he smiles, she loves his voice when he tells her about something he has made that day, the pride she can hear in his voice, and how he lowers his eyes embarrassed sometimes. She loves him, she loves him so much she's sure her heart could burst from the pressure; she realizes this one day when he asks her if he can see her again that same night.

« Why? » She asks, a little worried. « Is everything okay? »

« Yes, yes, everything's fine, it's just... » He bites his lips in hesitation, he does that sometimes when he's nervous she's learned. « I just want to see you. »

She can't be angry or mad or upset or tell him that he's being stupid, because she understands perfectly, she wants it too. She wishes she could see him. The Waynwoods are arriving the day after tomorrow and she's already so angry at the prospect of seeing them again, only her moments with Jon manage to calm her. She lives for this, these stolen moments in this dark room, the stolen kisses and touches. Maybe that's why she can't be angry at him, because whatever his wants are, they're hers too. « Where? »

Jon raises confused eyes at her. « Really? »

« I want to see you. » She repeats his words and leans her head forward to connect their forehead and she loves how he immediately joins her, grabbing her hands and intertwining their fingers.

« Anywhere you want. »

She thinks for a second, and she knows almost immediately. « Do you see the small stone bridge near the river? »

« Up the hill behind the castle? » She nods. « I do. »

« Won't it be dangerous for you? Won't someone see you? »

She smiles, because of course he's worried about her, only him. « Don't worry, I'll find a way. » She assures him, pushing a dark curl away from his face. « I'll find a way to you. »

  
  


Later, when the castle has grown quiet and she's sure that no one will come looking for her, she slips on a black hooded cape and sneaks from her room. She's taking quick steps towards the secret passage of the castle, it's supposed to be used in case of an attack, but sometimes as children, her siblings and herself would play knights and maids and dragons in those stairs, and now another memory is printing on these stones, at her family's expense. She's about to descend through the secret passage when a voice stops her.

« Are you going to meet him? » Sansa stops dead in her tracks, her heart dropping in her chest. She turns around to face her sister. Arya is standing in the center of the corridor, still in the trousers their mother has begged her to throw away, her hands behind her back, that emotionless face on. Sansa knows that face, t's the one Arya shows when she's onto something but not certain. Sansa would love to be able to hide her emotions, she had been able to at one point, but these days, this task has proven harder and harder.

For a second, she entertains the idea of lying, but she knows Arya will know as soon as it's out of her mouth. She had never been able to lie to her sister. « How do you know? »

« I saw you today, coming out of the utility room, I saw him first actually and when I did, I wanted to call him out and ask him if he would make a sword for me. But then I saw you come out too. And then I remembered the day he came to drop the gifts for Lord Waynwood. And I remembered how you looked at him then. » Arya explains taking a few steps forward, her voice low. The corridor is empty but they're not too safe.

Sansa curses herself mentally, because how could she have been so stupid ? A stupid little girl, with stupid dreams and wishes, who'll never learn apparently. « Please, don't tell anyone. They'll kill him. »

« Of course I won't. » Arya takes another step closer towards Sansa. « I just want to ask you if you know what you're doing, what you're risking.»

Sansa sighs and shakes her head. « No... I have no idea what I am doing. I just know that I love him... I really do, Arya. »

Arya's gaze softens with a feeling Sansa knows is pity and compassion. « Oh Sansa... »

« I know, I know, it's stupid, because... It's not going to last but... all my life, I've done everything for everyone. Hell, I'm getting married to a man I hate for mother and father. Can't I do this one thing just for me? »

Arya stares at her older sister for a minute, her eyes teary but she sighs and nods quietly. « Go then. He must be waiting for you. I'll cover for you if someone asks for you. »

« Arya, I can't- »

« Go. » Arya insists, and Sansa doesn't argue, only hugs her sister tightly before going down the long stairs. She doesn't see the sad look Arya gives her retreating form, and she'll never know that Arya will wish she had stopped her that night, after all this is over.

  
  


Sansa meets Jon right where they had agreed to. The moon is high in the black sky, and she is able to make her way through the forest, having done it a million times with her brothers, even though it had been in the daylight and on horseback, Sansa remembers the way to the river easily. She spots Jon immediately, his silhouette breaking the horizon, she can't see his face, but she knows it's him, she'd recognize him anywhere, she'd recognize him blind, she'd recognize him in a crowd of a thousand, she'd recognize him by the way his voice carried in the wind, and the way he draws breath every morning, she'd recognize him anywhere, in this life, or the next. She's not even close to him but he raises his head towards her nonetheless. At this, she quickens her steps, almost running to meet him and he catches her in his arms when she flings her body at him. It feels like a first embrace even though it's not; she saw him only a few hours ago, but it feels like a lifetime has passed between then and now. She tightens her arms around him and takes in his scent. Melted iron, burnt coal and sunshine. Her new favourite fragrance. She feels him sigh against her and she wishes of staying here forever, her worries forgotten, a cloak of peace and calm wrapping around her. Even with the few layers of clothes he has on, she can still feel the warmth emanating from his body, as his fire was running through his veins.

Parting from him at last, she wastes no time in finding his lips, and he wastes no time in returning it, and like every time, her skin burns and chills run through her whole body, and her heart in her chest is swelling and beating too fast to be healthy but she doesn't care. She'll die, she'll die at the edge of his lips if it means he's the last thing she feels. She'll never have that however, the water will have settled in her lungs long before he finally reaches her.

She leaves his lips and he searches hers, and it makes her laugh because even in the darkness, she sees the hunger in his eyes and the love and the devotion he holds for her. God, is it possible to love this much?

«The things you do to me, Sansa... » He breathes against her and she smirks because she knows. She knows the things she does to him. She has felt it a few times already, when she had pressed him against her, out of want and desire to have him close, closer, so close. It had surprised her at first and he had excused himself but then she had touched him and she still remembered the groans he had hidden in the crook of her neck, the moans he had buried on her lips, she had never been more proud of anything in her life.

« We could... » She starts, her cheeks already pink at the thought, she hopes the darkness conceals it her embarrassment. « No one's here. No one would hear us. »

Jon searches for certitude in her eyes and she makes sure he finds it. « Are you sure? » He still asks. « We don't have to... »

«I want it to be with you. I want you to be the first, Jon. » She whispers against his lips, letting the thought reach him. « I don't want Harold Waynwood to be the first man to touch me. »

At that, Jon's eyes are filled with fury and his hands tighten on the back of Sansa's neck, enough to hurt but she doesn't move away from his touch. « I won't ever... let him touch you. » He growls, and he takes her lips in a hungry kiss, and she surrenders immediately. « You're mine, Sansa. Mine, mine, mine... » He keeps chanting against her skin, against her neck and when he takes her later for the first time, the words are still on his lips and she'll meet him with a chant of hers.  _ Yours, yours, yours _ .

  
  


When Sansa wakes up the next day, in her bed, it's with a smile and she doesn't shy away from the blinding light coming from her small window. Her brain immediately takes her back to last night, with Jon. She can still hear him chanting her name in her ears as he thrusts into her all so slowly, she can still feel his hands on her, digging bruises on her hips and if she were to look now, she would surely find them now, light purple marks on her hips and stomach and thighs and neck, witnesses of the events, proofs of their lovemaking under the moonlight. If it weren't for them, Sansa would have thought it was all a dream.

It takes her a moment to realize that there are noises outside, voices and quick footsteps are making their way to her ears and she frowns. No one is usually awake and going at this hour. Sansa rises from her bed, she gathers herself for a second, the ache between her legs making itself known, before going to her door. She grabs her gown, to cover herself before opening her door. Maids are running left and right, and Sansa can vaguely hear her sister protesting in her own bedroom down the corridor. Sansa decides to go there, surely certain that she can ease whatever is troubling Arya. Reaching the chambers, Sansa knocks on the door to announce herself before stepping in. Her mother is present and Sansa brings the gown closer to her body even though it's just her sister and mother.

« What's going on? » She asks.

Upon seeing her sister enter the room, Arya's expression shifts to a softer one, one filled with sadness that worries Sansa. She wants to ask why, what has caused Arya to be so upset, but it's her mother who speaks first.

« Ha, Sansa! You're awake, good you need to be bathed at once, I've sent a maid already to ready a bath for you, and maybe you can convince your sister to agree to change her clothes and wear proper ones! » Lady Catelyn says.

« I am supposed to ride with Bran and Robb this morning! » Arya exclaims, fury taking her again. « I can't wear a dress if I am meant to ride anyway! »

« Why can't you ride with them? » Sansa asks, hoping her calm tone will help calm Arya.

Again, when Arya turns to her, it's sadness Sansa sees in her eyes. « The watcher on the remparts said the Waynwoods should be here under an hour. » Arya states.

The news is like a punch to Sansa's gut. She processes the words and feel her knees give out under her but she manages to stay up. She blinks back tears and clears her throat. « Weren't they supposed to be back two days from now? »

« They rode quickly. Perhaps Harold Waynwood couldn't wait to be near you again. » Lady Catelyn says and there's a teasing smile with her words but Sansa wants to spit at her mother's words. She wants to throw up at the mere thought of being near Harold Waynwood again.

« Well, I should get ready then. » She doesn't even curtsy before exiting the room, but she waits to be in the comfort of her own room to let the tears fall freely.

~~

Jon is gathering a few horseshoes in a box in a crate, ready to make his way to the castle when the horns blow. He frowns, wondering what are the news today. He joins Mormont who's dealing with the front of the shop today, wiping his hands on the piece of fabric he has tied near his slim leather apron. He is surprised to see a big crowd gather in front of the wooden stage in the middle of the square. They usually have shows there, or whenever the Lords have an announcement to make, which seems to be the case today. He sees a steward rushing off the stage, to let way to Lord Stark and the rest of his family. Jon immediately recognizes them, and his eyes easily find Sansa's. She's looking straight at him, even at this distance. He can't help but smile at her sight, but she doesn't return it. Even from here, he can see the tension in her body, so different from his last memory of her, so relaxed and soft underneath his fingers. Jon wants nothing more to go over and ease that tension, like he knows so well how. His body having a mind of its own, he starts walking towards the crowd, leaving the shop, he doesn't even hear Jeor Mormont calling him, all he can see is the way Sansa's eyes doesn't leave him as he moves through the crowd to get to the front. This close, he can see that her eyes are red-rimmed and he frowns, and he looks at her and asks her silently. She shakes her head, and lowers her gaze to the ground. Jon can't help but feel that something is awfully wrong. He doesn't notice how Robb stark frowns too when he emerges from the crowd, and how the young man follows Jon's gaze towards his sister. He doesn't see how Arya stares at him too, her eyes filled with knowledge and compassion.

Lord Stark's voice rises and Jon hears him, but still, his eyes are on Sansa. « My people, my loyal people, how pleasant it is to see you all today! We come before you with great news today! Indeed, my eldest daughter, my flower of winter, » Lord Stark extends his hand towards his daughter and she takes it, « has agreed to a match, and a happy one at that. I have grown up with Lord Waynwood since I was a boy, and I am deeply happy to announce that the Waynwood should now be a part of the Stark family through the match of Harold Waynwood and Sansa Stark! The marriage should be celebrated tomorrow morning in our town church and our castle gates should be open for everyone to enjoy the festivities! »

The crowd erupts in joy and cheer but Joy feels like he's been stabbed in the heart. He vaguely sees Harold Waynwood and his parents joining the Starks on stage but Jon doesn't register much. All he can see is the silent tear Sansa sheds and how her eyes meet his and only when the crowd fades and the Starks are long gone, only then does he realize he's crying too.

~~

« My lady. » Sansa turns around, and immediately wants to wish she hadn't. Harold Waynwood is making his way towards her and Sansa suddenly wishes she could climb on the window sill and throw herself off the tower if it means she can escape speaking to him. But before she gets to that, he reaches her. « We haven't had much chance to talk after the announcement. »

No, they hadn't, she had made sure of that. « Indeed. »

« I just wanted to say, my lady, how grateful I am you agreed to the match. Our father couldn't be happier. » Harold says.

_ But I haven't agreed to anything _ , Sansa wants to say,  _ I don't want this _ . « I am sure everyone is, my lord. »

« Please, we're to be married soon, you can call me Harry. »

_ No, we won't _ . « As you wish then. » She clears her throat then. « Will you excuse me, I was making my way up to my chambers. I have still things to gather before our departure. »

« Of course, Lady Sansa. I can't wait for you to see the Vale. »

She smiles at him, a fake smile that she wants to come off as warm but is certain proves to be more of a grimace. « I can't wait either, Harry. »

She curtsies and turns around, resuming her walk to her chambers. She looks around the room, taking in everything. Her bed, her cupboard, the table she likes to keep her sewing projects on, the few books her father has allowed to have. She goes to her bed, sitting next to the gown she discarded, and she lets her fingers brush the fabric. She can still see where Jon had ripped it, where his fingers had slowly lifted it but she had hurriedly scrunched it up and she can hear his laugh when she had. It was only last night, but still it seems like a lifetime ago.

A knock at her door breaks her reverie and she turns to it in time to see her brother push the door open slightly. « May I come in? » He asks with a soft voice.

She smiles. « Need you ask? »

He smiles back at her and enters the bedroom. So many times as children they had spent their days in her chambers, or his sometimes. She remembers these times vividly, seven year old Robb running around five year old Sansa playing the maid and three year old Arya trying to keep up with them. Her brother comes to sit next to her on her bed, his hand finding hers easily. « Are you alright? You seemed upset earlier.»

Out of all her siblings, Robb has always been the closest to her, she wonders if it's because they look the most alike, with his reddish brown hair, and their mother's blue eyes. The Tully look, their mother's look. She had never been able to hide her emotions from Robb, he's always been quick to see through her façade. At times, she had loved to have someone to talk to, even though she had never truly told him the whole truth about she has always felt; and now, she wishes he wasn't as skilled to see right through her.

« I was, but I am alright now. » She answers, because there's no point in lying to him. She loves him too much to lie and it would only stall time, time she doesn't want to waste.

« Really? » He insists. « Nothing is bothering you? »

She tilts her head to the side. « Robb, ask what you really want to know. »

Robb sighs and she smiles because he's not good at stalling either. God, she's going to miss him so much. « I saw this boy today, the blacksmith's apprentice, he was in the crowd when father made the announcement... He was looking at you... » Robb's voice trails off but Sansa doesn't need to hear the rest. She wishes she could tell him it was nothing, that he's just a boy in love with a girl he can't have and that in the morning it won't matter anymore.

She sighs and wipes the tears at the corner of her eyes. « Everyone was looking at me. »

« Not like he was. » Robb retorts. «Sansa? He's not just the blacksmith's apprentice isn't he? »

Sansa lets the tears fall this time, because no,  _ no _ , he's not just a blacksmith's apprentice, he's more than that, he's so much more, he's the keeper of her heart, he's the one she loves, he's the holder of her secrets, he's everything she wants and can never have. « No, he's not. » Robb is about to speak up again, but Sansa interrupts him. «But it's fine Robb. We both knew it wouldn't last. »

« I am so sorry, Sansa. » He scoots closer to her, brings her into his arms and she's sobbing then, because how can she leave him? Her brother, her first best friend, the one who knows of her dreams, how can she ever leave him? He lets her sob on his shoulders, he only rubs her back with his strong hands, and whispers reassuring words in her hair. She wishes she could tell him everything, but she can't, she can't burden him with the knowledge. So she keeps crying, staining his clothes with her salty tears, hoping that when she's gone, he won't remember her by that only.

The castle is quiet when she slips away, her hood low on her face. The secret passage is empty as expected and she has no problem closing the door behind her. She has to do this, she repeats the words to herself, there's no other choice, if there was, she wouldn't be here. There are no other option, no better one than this, as bad as this one is. She lets her feet guide her to the forest, to the river, to the small bridge where she knows the water runs deep, and she wraps her arms closer to herself, hoping to calm her nerves. She can do this, it's not hard, it'll be easy, it'll be a relief. Not as great a relief as being in Jon's arms but a greater one than becoming Harold's wife. She reaches the river quickly enough and a part of her wishes it had taken longer, only for her anxiety to settle, only for her body to stop shaking. She stares at the bridge for a second, getting closer to the shore next to it. She remembers how only two nights ago, she was there, secured in Jon's embrace, protected with his love, and how she wishes she could be with him now. She prays he doesn't hate her for what she's about to do, she prays he doesn't hate her for leaving him alone in this world, but she can't. She can't marry Harold, she had known as soon as her father dragged her on stage to announce it and she had known the moment she had seen Jon in the crowd, his smile a short vision of bliss. She had known then what she had to do, and she hopes now, as the sun rises higher in the sky, leaving the safety of the horizon, that he can forgive her one day.

She sits there for a moment, on the shore, listening to the water current, a peaceful lullaby and she thinks she doesn't mind it to be the last sound she hears; it's nice and melodic enough. If she was a poet or a singer, maybe she would have made a song out of this moment, the broken hearted young girl gathering up courage to escape something greater than her. She closes her eyes one last time, gathering herself. It's okay, she tells herself, she can do this. She rises from her spot, and she takes off her boots, her gloves, and she doesn't mind the cold at first, only when her toes disappear under the water. She hisses in surprise and almost backs away but she stays there, knowing it'll only get worse if she does back away. She keeps her journey to the water until it reaches her waist and then, she turns towards the bridge, towards the spot she and Jon made love two nights ago. Her best memory, the sweetest of them all. She remembers how loved he had made her feel, she remembers how good it had been, she remembers the past week, the secrets they shared, the dreams they revealed, she hopes he sees the mountains someday, she hopes he falls in love again and takes her there, she hopes he remembers too. She lowers herself under the water, letting it surround her, like Jon's love, his devotion, his feelings for her. She still has air in her lungs and she doesn't feel the burn coming just yet; only the current, just the water, taking her body away further down the river. It's quiet, she thinks, for once her brain is turned off, no disturbing thought comes and she finds herself smiling as she floats through the stream. She can feel her heart beating fast however, and her lungs tightening in her chest, she knows she has to open her mouth at some point, but a part of her is still scared. She thinks of Arya, and she thinks her little sister wouldn't be afraid. Finally, she fights her adamant instincts and inhales, opening her mouth. In the distance, she can hear Robb telling her she did a good job, the sun showing the red in his hair. Water takes over her, inside and out, and the pressure around her heart and lungs disappears suddenly. She sees her lady mother and lord father watching over them in the courtyard. The water slowly drowns her but it's painless. She sees baby Rickon and little Bran running after her. She closes her eyes finally, the flare of the sky blinding her. She thinks she can see Jon reaching out for her, calling her name. She wants to grab his hands, hold him one last time, have a last kiss, but how? When her limbs are so numb, and her head so dizzy...

_ Sansa, please, love, please! Sansa! _

Arms take her but she's already gone by then. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you feel like yelling at me, find me on tumblr @shesgotherown or twitter @rivercorenswet :')


	3. 3. Ancient Turkey - 1449 - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> « Will that be all, my lord? » She throws the words at him, and if she were a man, she would kick him. Jon looks at her in confusion. « Will that be all or do you want me to lay and open my legs for you before you go into battle? Would that satisfy you? »

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIII !! Long time no see! So it's going to be quite a long note, if you don't want to read it, you can skip it but I am just explaining things for this chapter!  
> This chapter is the 3rd one, BUT because I somehow made it the longest thing I've ever written, it's going to be divided into two parts! The plot is tricky and for days, I wasn't unable to really write anything I feel like I was dragging out everything and the idea of splitting it came but I thought it'd be weird, but then, my darling, the ever so more clever than me @sansaravenclaw said '' you should split it '' SO of course I split it. I don't know when the second part is going to be up. Most of it is written already so you won't have to wait long but still. I don't know. I hope you enjoy this first part. Enjoy my babies. Love them. Anyway, here it is, have a nice reading.

  1.   
Turkey - 1449  
  




#  **“** I will remember the kisses

#  our lips raw with love

#  and how you gave me

#  everything you had

#  and how I

#  offered you what was left of

#  me,

#  and I will remember your small room

#  the feel of you

#  the light in the window

#  your records

#  your books

#  our morning coffee

#  our noons our nights

#  our bodies spilled together

#  sleeping

#  the tiny flowing currents

#  immediate and forever

#  your leg my leg

#  your arm my arm

#  your smile and the warmth

#  of you

#  who made me laugh

#  again.”

\- Charles Bukowski

  
  


Sansa watches as Jeyne displays the white veil on her bed. Lady Catelyn clasps her hands together in excitement while Arya rolls her eyes.

« Well, this one is just perfect! » Lady Catelyn exclaims. Sansa lets her fingers brush the white embroidered tulle. It is very pretty indeed, and the colour is perfect, it'll go well with her wedding dress, she thinks. She smiles towards her mother and nods in agreement. She hears Arya scoffs in the background, her nose still buried in her book. Sansa wants to tell her that she doesn't have to let everyone know she's upset about staying in this city but then, Sansa doesn't really blame her. She wishes they didn't have to leave once it's all done.

Later, when her wedding dress is finally approved and her mother and Jeyne have left yet Arya doesn't make a move to stand, Sansa settles next to her on the window seat. Arya moves her feet, without raising her head and Sansa sits with her needlework, a direwolf head with weirwood leaves surrounding it. They sit together in silence for a while and Sansa is most thankful for it; her sister and herself haven't always seen eye to eye on things but this matter... Sansa has found herself agreeing with Arya more often than not. When the sun sets on the horizon, the water reflecting its blinding orange light, Sansa pauses her movements to look out the window, at Constantinople.  _ This is her home now _ , she thinks. Tomorrow, she will be married, to someone she has never met, because she is a Stark, because that name holds power, and that's all she's ever going to worth.

« Do you miss home? » She asks.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Arya finally raising her eyes from her book, but Sansa doesn't meet her gaze, she can't; if she does, she'll crumble. «Every day. » No further words are exchanged between them, as they continue their tasks, and when they part it's with a promise of safety for tomorrow, hidden in a short embrace.

  
  


The wedding is happening in the church, and Sansa finds it funny that it's happening here, considering her intended is of another faith. Will the Lord forgive her for that act, marrying a man of another faith? She hopes that he does, after all, she's only obeying her family's orders. It's a political marriage meant to unite the two families but their diverging faith... She had been surprised when her mother had come to her with the match, even more surprised when she had announced that it was to a Targaryen. The most powerful family. The closest advisors to the Sultan Murad II. Sansa has heard rumors about the Targaryens. There is Rhaegar, closest advisor to the Sultan, everything she has heard about him seems to tell that he is loved by the people, he is said to be kind, with a compassionate ear to the poor, but fearless on the battlefield. There is Viserys, Rhaegar's younger brother, who is said to lack every quality of his brother apart from his looks. There's also Daenerys, twin sister of Viserys and she's said to be just like her brother Rhaegar, though her beauty is beyond compare rumour has it, though her tongue is sharper. And then there's Jon.

_ Jon Targaryen _ .

Sansa has never seen him, but she's heard the rumors. They say he's a captain, a military genius, they say he rides into battle on the back a winged dragon, she has even heard people call him The White Dragon. They say he's different than his family for his looks, that he's kinder than them but just as stubborn. Sansa knows it's a good match, but still, she can't help but wrap both of her hands around her father's elbow as they start walking down the steps to the center of the church. If he feels the painful pressure, he doesn't say, and she hopes that none of the people present can see her fear under her veil – they probably can't; she had barely recognized herself in her looking glass once her mother had placed the veil on her head. She tries to focus on Arya's steps, a few feet in front of her, and she takes a deep breath and raises her eyes to try and show a strong front. She can do this, it's for the future of her family. Their survival depends on her, and she will fulfill her duty. The walk to the altar is quick in her eyes and she soon sees her intended. He has his eyes cast down, fixated on his feet. He's wearing something similar to what her father and brother Robb are wearing, a black fitted jubba where a silver chain with a dragon pin resting on his left breast, paired with what appears to be dark red salwar pants. Her family had wanted to honor his faith in dressing like  _ his _ family usually do, and she hopes he appreciates it or even recognizes the effort. She can't see his face, but her eyes are set on him, his dark wavy hair slipped back carefully. Her father stops and she turns to him, he raises her hands to his lips and shows a smile, a brave one, the rare ones she has seen too much of lately. She tries to mirror his expression, hoping he doesn't see the anxiety in her eyes. She goes to stand in front of the altar, and next to Arya, who gives her a small reassuring smile as well. Sansa smiles too, more genuinely now, and then she turns to face her soon to be husband.

Husband.

_ Husband _ .

One of those words that sound more and more wrong no matter how much you repeat them.

The veil plays a barrier between them, and there's something tugging at her chest, asking her, begging her to lift it so she can see his face, so she can see who he is. She doesn't know what drives him to, if her thoughts went to him or if this new god heard her wishes, but the man raises his eyes from his feet, scanning her up before he finally meets her blue eyes. A light gasp is torn from her chest when his grey eyes settle on her. For a second, she forgets where she is, and she can only see him, his eyes and the intensity in them, his short stubble. He's handsome, she finds herself thinking, and she wonders if he can see much of her face under the white veil, if he finds her pretty, or even beautiful. And she almost wants to laugh, she wishes she could break the dead silence that is filling the grand church, for she never thought that she would want Jon Targaryen to find her beautiful.

  
  


She follows him into her chambers –  _ their _ chambers – and she stares at his back, still in his reception clothes. He had barely spoken a word to her in all the hours they had stood and sat next to each other after they had said the words  _ I do _ . He had offered his arm, guided her through the reception and sat next to her at the feast. Even then, he hadn't made a move to remove her veil, she had found it strange, he hadn't lifted it when the priest had said  _ you may kiss the bride _ . No, he had only brushed his lips against her right hand – her skin still burns where his lips were. And now, he has left her side and walked in front of her without a word. He pushes open the door, and still doesn't speak as he walks in, leaving her to stand in the doorway. It's grand, much bigger than what she's used to but she guesses this is what the solar of one of the best military chief is supposed to be. She takes a couple steps in, but still, she feels so much like a foreigner, like a stranger to this place, and yet it's her home now. She walks further in the room, taking it all in, but still, her nails dig in her palms so hard she's sure she'd find blood if she were to look. She wonders if he would look, if the man who's currently pouring himself a cup would mind looking. He hasn't made a move towards her, has barely acknowledged her. Is it how it's going to be? Is he going to ignore her for the rest of their lives?

« May I open the window? » She tries; maybe if she's nice, maybe if she is good like her lady mother taught her, then maybe it won't be as hard, maybe he'll warm up to her.

But she's wrong, because he only hums slightly, the cup to his lips, his eyes far away from her. She tries to not sigh too loudly, to remain as poised as she knows how, and goes to open the window. Maybe the light breeze of the night will help ease her nerves. The cold air enters the room, and she lets a smile grow on her face, closing her eyes at the feeling. For a minute, she lets herself think she's home, back in the mountains of Andrinople, where it's colder and she misses it so much, she misses the rides with her family, she misses the nights reading with her father and sister in his office, she misses brushing baby Rickon's curls in the morning. God, she misses home, she misses it so much.

She turns around and finds her husband staring at her, she's caught him in a movement it seems, as his hand is up in the air, bringing his cup to his lip but it stills when her eyes fall on him. There's something in his eyes, a look she's never seen before, no one has ever looked at her like that, and it awakes something in her. A spark, in her, and her whole body feels it, and she shivers, and it's not from the cold air rushing in the room. A sudden desire to be near him comes over her, and she wants nothing than to meet his eyes, know him, figure him out, know his thoughts, know what his smile looks like, what his laugh sounds like – low, a light chuckle at first, but with time she'll get genuine laughs from him and it'll feel like thunder under her fingers. She needs him to do something, she needs to know that she's not alone, that she can't be the only one who feels this, who wants to know.

« Won't you lift it? » She questions, her voice light and gentle, and she sees it travel to him, she sees the way he raises an eyebrow, just enough for her to notice, she sees how he lowers his cups to the table and rises to his feet. He crosses the space in between them in long strides, he stops in front of her, only a foot away from her, and she's not sure having him so close is such a good idea after all. He's tall, taller than her, much taller and standing so close to her, she can see he's strong too. His dark grey eyes are staring at her, and the air is stuck in her throat, and for a second, he just stares at her, openly, doesn't let go of her eyes and she wonders if he's taunting her, if it's a game to him. Does he find playing with the Stark girl amusing? Is he trying to get a reaction out of her? Does he not care at all about what she looks like? Is she ever going to worth more than just a name?

Feeling anger rising, she sighs and makes a move to leave but Jon grabs her elbow, keeping her in her spot. His grip is firm on her skin, but gentle enough that if she wanted to take her arm out of his hand, she could – but she doesn't. She stays, and she is only too aware that she's close now, so close to him, she's almost touching his chest, her eyes set on his neck, on the spot where his collar bones meet, and it's only then she notices that three top buttons on his jubba are undone and a few inches of skin are there, visible. She finds herself wondering what it would taste like under her skin.

But she doesn't get to entertain that thought further, she doesn't get to imagine the taste of his skin, for his left hand leaves her arm to slowly grasp the veil and his other hand takes the other side, lightly brushes her arm and Sansa feels the fabric slowly being lifted off her face. He places the veil to rest on top of her head. Slowly, she gathers her strength to look up, to meet him, to meet his eyes, and she does. And oh,  _ oh _ , they're grey, a light grey, the colour of the sky after a heavy rain, and she sees, no,  _ feels _ , his chest move, and she sees him taking in air and she wonders, just for a second, _ is it because of me _ ?

«Hello. » It's all she can say, it's all her dry mouth manages to spit out.

The corner of his lips tug upwards, just the slightest, and she smiles too, proud that she has managed to get a reaction out of his unbreakable face. « Hello, indeed. » He replies, and she likes the lightness in his voice at that, and she thinks she'd like to hear it again. But before she can say something else, he clears his throat and turns around, putting distance between them, and he walks off to the side of the room where a large sofa bed is. She watches as he starts to take off his jubba and frowns, confused.

« What are you doing? » She asks, and he hopes he doesn't hear how weak her voice is, because she hates it, she hates how small she sounds, how fragile. She hopes he doesn't regret marrying a teenager, she's only seventeen, but she knows what happens on a wedding night, her mother has told her, and Sansa has prepared herself for it, as best as she could.

« You can take the bed. » He simply says, and he has dressed down to a white shirt now, and she adverts her eyes, even though she doesn't have to.

« I thought... » She whispers and she closes her eyes in confusion. She had prepared herself for any outcome, any of them, had thought of every situation; the pleasant ones, the painful ones, the boring ones, she has thought about all of them. But certainly not this one.

Her husband still his movements and turns to her. « Sansa. » He calls, and she realizes it's the first time he's said her name. Somehow, she doesn't hate it in his voice, doesn't think it strange, on the contrary, it almost sounds familiar. She turns to him, and tries to keep her composure. « Our families have made this match but we haven't. We don't know each other. If something is to happen between us, I want it to be because we both want it. And until then, I'll sleep here and you have the bed. » His voice is strong but there's a softness to it, and she finds herself unable to answer. He's nothing like she has imagined, she has heard so many things about him, and she is astonished at how he has managed to throw away all the expectations she has had in a short time. And later, after she's painfully managed to take off her wedding dress, when she lies in the soft silk sheets and she can hear his breathing from the other side of the room, she finds herself wondering if he had expectations too.

~~

Jon wakes up with his neck aching as if it has been repeatedly pierced with needles. He groans and raises his hand to his skin, trying to gently massage it but it's worse so he sits up, trying to stretch his neck a little but nothing works. He sighs and lies back on his back, and it's stiff, so tense and his whole body hurts; maybe sleeping on this sofa bed wasn't the best idea he has ever had. The air is cold this morning, and he realizes the window is still open. A random, simple request from his wife last night but now, the cold air has settled and for a second, he realizes this is what woke him up. He is not used to sleep in the cold, always likes a nice warm temperature to fall asleep, he gets up to close it so he can fall asleep again, it's still early, the sun is barely rising, but just as his hand is about to lock the window, he hears a whimper. He turns towards the sound, and he sees his wife, Sansa, stirring where she lays on the bed. For a second, he can't help but look.

Her long copper red hair fanned out on the pillow, her chest heaving up and down in a slow, peaceful rhythm, her fair porcelain skin, she looks so calm, so at ease, sleeping so soundly, without a care in the world. Jon envies her, he envies the way she's laid out on the soft bed, for a second he wonders if the pillows smell like her already, and shakes his head at the thought. No, he won't go there, he already hates himself for acting the way he had yesterday, but... it had been a lot, the wedding ceremony, with everyone watching, he could barely see her under that veil, that treacherous veil, but he hadn't wanted to let everyone see his reaction. And then, he had tried to be nice to her, introduce her to people but it had felt as if he was forcing her and he doesn't want that. She has been already been forced into this marriage, she doesn't deserve this. And when he had lifted the light veil off of her last night, she had looked so fragile, so pure, so beautiful, so perfect. How could he have her, how was he meant to have her... he doesn't deserve her, doesn't deserve someone as pure and clean as her, that much is clear. With a sigh, he tears his eyes off of her sleeping frame, and leaves the window open and decides to go and start his day. He is already awake after all, and maybe a hot bath will do some good to the tight knots down his neck and back.

  
  


It's still rather early when he walks down the stairs to break his fast, his body feeling less tense but enough for it to hurt when he moves a bit too fast, but it's okay, he's been through worse, he'll survive. As usual, he finds Rhaegar and Daenerys at the table already, food in front of them. At the sight of him, the maid standing in the corner hurries and places another plate on the table next to Daenerys and Jon sits in front of it.

« Thank you. » He tells the maid who only bows at his word.

« Well hello, brother. How is married life treating you so far? » Rhaegar asks, a light teasing tone coming through. Jon likes Rhaegar, out of his three siblings he's the one with the most common sense. After their parents both died in the last war, Rhaegar was the one who stepped up and took care of them, Jon had only been ten, and Rhaegar only a boy of seventeen but still, Jon will never thank him enough.

« It's only been a day. » He knows his answer is vague, evasive but even if he really loves his brother, there are a few things he'd like to keep for himself. His family doesn't need to know the arising feelings he has for his wife.

« So? » Daenerys says, putting some grapes in her mouth. « Is she any good at least? »

« Dany. » Rhaegar warns, and Jon mentally thanks him for it, but it's okay. He knows how to handle their older sister.

« I don't see how this concerns you. » Jon replies, drinking some juice himself. He sees his sister roll her eyes.

« Well, she's part of our family now, isn't she? I can enquire about her. »

« And yet,  _ this _ is hardly any of your concern. » Jon says, keeping his voice calm.

« It is, if my brother isn't satisfied. We can always arrange some- »

« I told you. » Jon interrupts sharply. « I am not taking part in those customs. »

« You don't have to oblige to her religion, Jon. She would understand if- »

« I am  _ not _ taking part in those customs. » Jon repeats, more gravely, his eyes set on his sister. « Maybe you don't know the notion since you don't actively do it yourself but I intend to respect my wife and her faith and its customs. I took a vow, and I shall honor that vow. So keep your petty thoughts to yourself and mind your own business. »

Daenerys seems to get his point, seen by the way she narrows her eyes at him and clenches her fists on the table. Jon wants to relish in this moment, but he doesn't want to give his sister the joy to know that the subject of his wife is sensitive. He can't let her know how he has felt since he laid eyes on Sansa, no one can know,  _ no one _ .

«Please, it's barely morning. » Rhaegar says, trying to sound light and break the tension. « Can't you two wait for noon to start bickering? »

Jon sighs. « I'm not even hungry anymore anyway. I'll see you all later. » He wipes his hands on the napkin next to him, and rises. He leaves, the tension in his shoulders having returned thanks to his oh so wonderful sister, and lets his feet take him to the kitchens.

« My lord, hum, what-... » The cook is surprised to see him, he can tell, but he doesn't have time to be nice.

«Send fruits and bread and the best jams to my chambers for Lady Stark. If you find orange juice, bring that up too. » He says to them, his hands behind his back; he turns to leave but stops. « Oh, and find out what her favorite dessert is and make it for her every day. » With that he's off, to the training room, where hopefully, he'll be able to ease the tension in his body.

  
  


When he sees his wife again, she is in the hedge maze, walking through the high lanes of green, a few flowers in her hands. He's watching from one of the terraces of the tower, not the highest one and at first, he had come to it to have some peace after his training with Satin, and it had worked until he had heard steps down in the garden. And then, he had caught sight of her red hair, her creamy skin, and now, he's watching her, watching her form sweep through the tall bushes, her fingers lightly brushing the shaped short trees. He is intrigued, to say the least, he wonders how, a young girl of seventeen found herself in a political alliance. He has heard rumors about the Starks, because people love to talk and the Starks  _ do _ have a reputation. The proud family, so many military chiefs come from her family line; he remembers the story of Brandon Stark, the strongest leader of the last crusade, who fell in battle, like Jon's grandfather. He thinks about Ned Stark, the famous honourable man ruling over the city of Andrinople, he thinks about his hard, stern look when he had walked her down the aisle. He thinks about Robb Stark and his serious, piercing blue eyes at the wedding, he thinks about Arya Stark, whom he's heard is very fond of sword fighting. Jon watches Sansa making her way through the maze and wonders, wonders if under that sweet figure, those sweet blue eyes of hers, she is as tough, as strong-willed as the rest of her family. Is it just a façade then? Is this sweet personality only just for show? Their sigil is a wolf after all, he wonders if she lives up to it.

The sun is shining in the gardens, and her hair looks like fire in this light and Jon wants nothing more than to run down the stairs and see how those locks feel in his fingers. His hands itch, burns from the want of touching her, she's there, she's right there, and it overwhelms him just a little, and as if she can feel it, this is the moment she turns her head, upwards, and even from where he's standing, he can see her blue eyes. They find him immediately and he feels his lungs fill with brand new fresh air, and his mouth falls open when she shows a smile, his heart pounding in his chest at the sight. He feels the drops of sweat down his back, but how? His training had been done for over an hour already, how can he possibly be sweating from that still? With the frantic heartbeat in his ears, he turns around, taking his steps away from this balcony, from her.

That evening, after spending so much time in his bath that he's cold by the time he's out of the water, he finds his wife in their chambers. Truth be told, he was on his way to seek her out so they could join his family for dinner, but the sight in front of him makes him forget this plan. She's near the table when he walks in, and it seems he has caught her as she was setting the table. She stops once she sees him though, and stands up straight.

« My lord. I was about to send someone to find you. » She says, casting her eyes down. He notices how her hands shake, how her fingers twitch and it wonders if it's a nervous tell. « I was hoping we could have dinner together here. »

Oh. Jon lets her word being processed and well, this isn't what he had planned. This isn't what he had planned at all. But with those blue wide eyes staring up at him... damn his siblings.

«It'll be my pleasure, my lady. » He tells her and the smile she shows lights up the room, putting the candles light to shame. He walks towards the table and looks at the food displayed; it is quite a spread and he realizes that most of these dishes are his favourite, and he wonders if she asked the cook about them. With his hand, he gestures for her to sit, and moves quickly to pull the chair out for her. She thanks him softly, a smile with her words and Jon feels his head spinning. Water, he needs water, and sit, he needs to sit.

They start their meal in silence, and he finds himself watching her, watching her every move, watching how her hands pick up the fork and knife carefully, how she eats with a delicacy he has never witnessed before, how poised and perfectly put together she is, her hair carefully tucked into braids – he wishes she had let it down, just so he could witness those red waves contrast with the blue of her gown. She raises her head towards him, and he finds himself holding her gaze, unable to look away from her.

«Is something wrong? » She asks with a frown, and even with the line creasing her forehead, Jon finds her beautiful. « Do you not like the meal? »

« It's good, very good. You didn't have to go through that trouble. Thank you. » Jon hopes she knows he means it.

« I wanted to. » She says, lowering his eyes once more, and he misses the blue of her eyes already. « After the maid told me you sent for breakfast for me... I only wanted to return the favor. »

Jon lowers his cup of water and it's his turn to frown. « You didn't have to. » And she looks up at him then. « You don't owe me anything my lady. »

« Mother says that a good wife should always do nice things for her husband. »

« Nice things don't mean anything if you don't want to do them. » Sansa's eyes find him and his skin burns where she looks at him. She doesn't answer, and only looks at him before clearing her throat and resuming eating her dinner. And so does he. By Allah, was this supposed to be this hard? He wonders if they had more time to know each other before their wedding, if their marriage had been born out of love, would it have been different? Sure, she's beautiful and he is only a man after all, barely twenty years old, and yes, he is attracted to her, and for now, he'll lie and deny the sharp ache in his bones, he'll lie and pretend it's nothing; anything but the desire to discover how her skin feels under his fingers – soft, warm, familiar, he'll learn.

~~

It takes Sansa a few days to find her rhythm in her new home. There are the hedge maze, surely larger than Winterfell itself and Sansa likes to spend her afternoons walking through the tall lanes, picking some flowers on her way for her bedroom. She has learned her way through the massive castle, and it's so big, sometimes she still has trouble to find the right way back to her chambers. She has never been good at finding her way as a kid, getting lost often around Wintertown, and here... well, it is worse, honestly. That's why she's now roaming around the corridors of the castle, trying to remember her way back to their chambers so she can put the flowers in the vase near the bed, before they dry out, and that's how she bumps into Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen at a corner. She had met them before obviously, she had broken fast with Daenerys a few times, but Jon had always been there and now, with the two of them staring at her with their piercing eyes she feels so small. They're tall, like Jon, although Daenerys is shorter, but still taller than Sansa, and now they're towering over her, the same smirk playing over their lips, and Sansa can't help but wish Jon were here.

« Lady Sansa, what a pleasure to see you this afternoon. » Daenerys speaks first, and Sansa pretends she doesn't see Viserys' eyes scanning her body, and she focuses her attention on Daenerys.

« It's a shared pleasure, my lady. » Sansa answers. « Enjoying a late afternoon stroll? »

« Oh if only! » Daenerys responds as Viserys rolls his eyes at her words. « We finished an endless council just now. »

« A council? »

« Yes, my lady. » Viserys speaks and his voice is like silk, the words glide easily out of his mouth. « The last crusade didn't leave our world untainted. Enemies rise from all fronts every day. »

Sansa hears the patronizing tone very distinctly, but doesn't retort. If he had talked like this to Arya, she would have thrown him down and beat him, and he probably deserves it. But she's not Arya, sadly, so instead she plants a smile and remembers her mother's words.  _ Courtesy is a lady's armor _ . « I am sorry, my lord, I am afraid I am not very acquainted with matters of wars and battles. »

« You better soon be. » Viserys snaps. « Who knows when the next battle might break, we must all be ready. »

« I do believe you and your siblings are advising our sultan quite well that such prospect doesn't come. »

« Advising is one thing. If he’ll actually listen is another matter altogether. » Daenerys says. She approaches Sansa and picks a lock of Sansa's hair and twirls it around her finger. « But don't you worry about anything, sweet girl. You're a Targaryen now, and when war comes, we will protect you. »

Sansa frowns and is about to question Daenerys's words but she's interrupted by her name being called.

« Sansa? » Her eyes go beyond Daenerys' shoulder, and Jon stands there, a confused brow raised and she has never been happier for his presence. She stands a little straighter, Daenerys' hand falling from her hair as she takes a step back and Sansa doesn't have time to relish in that fact because then Jon is next to her, and Sansa has to take a slight step back, because this feels a little overwhelming. She feels like a wolf caught in a dragon's grip and she can't claw her way out of it. Jon's tall frame is imposing, much more imposing than Viserys' slim body, and his shoulders are squared in defiance, and Sansa knows she can't be the only one to notice.

« What's going on? » Her husband asks, his tone grave and serious.

« Oh nothing, we were just getting better acquainted with our new sister. » Viserys says. «We haven't had much chance before, you've been keeping her from us... »

« That's because you never came down for breakfast. If you did, you'd have plenty of opportunities to get acquainted. » Jon retorts, his hands behind his back. « But I suppose your nights are busier than ours. »

« Jealous you're not getting any action, brother? » Viserys taunts and Sansa sees Jon's jaw clench. « My offer of sharing still stands. »

« And my answer still stands. » Jon answers tightly.

«That's sad. » Viserys says, his eyes falling on Sansa again. « Maybe a little switch will suit you better... »

Jon is red now, his fists clenched by his side, but he doesn't say anything, only stares at his brother, and Sansa can't see his eyes since he is now completely in front of her, but only a second later, she feels his fingers wrap around her wrist and she's turned around harshly by Jon and he drags her further down the corridor, walking quickly, his long legs making it hard for her to keep up. She does trip at some point and it's only then that Jon slows down his pace, but he doesn't stop walking and she wishes he would, but they reach their chambers and only then, only when they're inside and the door is closed and locked behind them, only then does he let go of her wrist. She pretends she doesn't feel cold when he does, she pretends she doesn't feel empty when he's not invading her private space anymore, instead he's bent over the table, his head hung low, his knuckles turning white from holding the edge so hard. Sansa doesn't know what she should do. She has never seen any man behave like this before, her father and her brother had never been like this around her, but she knows Jon is angry, she knows by the way he's breathing, ragged, short, by the way he's holding onto that table, about to break it, by the way she can almost hear his fast heartbeat, or is it hers?

« Are you okay? » She asks. « Can I do something? » It's all she can say, all she can offer, her help, her bones are aching to go near him, touch him, ease his anger, something inside her tells her she could, she can, but she stays put and waits for his answer.

The look he gives her once he raises his head is hard, full of fury, one that scares her deep inside her bones. But his eyes go soft, slowly, but the fear doesn't leave.

«I'm sorry for what my brother's words. He's... he has a tendency to speak his mind without thinking if it could hurt people. »

« It's not your job to apologize for his words, my lord. » She answers, because it's true. He is not the one who should apologize.

« But I should. » He rises, leaving the table, standing to his full height. « He has no right to talk about you like this. »

« His words don't mean anything to me, my lord. » Sansa says, and he's getting closer, walking ever so slowly towards her, and Sansa can feel the air in her lungs escaping slowly, leaving her breathless once he's standing in front of her.

« How do you do it? » He asks in a whisper. « How do you let people talk about you like that and not resent them? »

She tries to will her body not to shake, but this proximity, the warmth emanating from him reaching her and for a second, she lets herself feel it, love it. « I know my worth, and I know the truth. As long as I know that, other people's assumptions don't matter. I can't resent people for what they think. »

« Even when they say it to your face? »

« Even then, my lord. » She says, and they're so close, she can feel his breath on her skin. « If I let their opinion affect me, then I am no better than them. »

He watches her for a few minutes, in silence, and she holds it, doesn't cower under his gaze. «Lady Stark, you might just be the one person who might survive in this shit city. »

She doesn't miss the fact that he said Lady Stark, and not Lady Targaryen, even though that would be the appropriate term for her now. She's his wife, she is Lady Targaryen now, and yet, hearing him call her by that title ignites a fire in her, and she raises her chin, in pride. « You don't like it here? »

He scoffs, and takes a few steps back, returning to the table and getting himself a cup of water. « Nobody does. If someone tells you they do, they're lying. Nobody likes the sounds of people starving and the smell of death. »

She's surprised by his candor, this is probably the most words they've said to one another in the whole week they've been married. She searches for something to say, if only to hear his voice again. «Where would you go? » He turns back to her, licking the last drops of water off of his bottom lip -Sansa wants to taste it too. « You must have traveled, I am sure. »

He stares at her, again, and she still doesn't lower her eyes, she's finding it easier to look, to let him look, and the more he does, the more she realizes, she wants him to look. « I have. » He answers, nodding to himself. « I have never been to Andrinople, however. »

« Maybe I can take you there someday. » She says in a heartbeat and she'll cherish the short smile he gives her long after she's fallen asleep.

« I would like that very much, my lady. »

« You can call me Sansa. We're married after all. » She says, letting a light chuckle escape her.

His smile grows, and the next thing he does makes her blush, makes her skin tingle and a shiver runs through her whole body. « Alright,  _ Sansa _ . »

  
  


~~

Jon will kill Viserys one day. He doesn't know why, or how, but he just might one day. He knows it, he feels it deep in his bones and nothing would make him happier than blacken his eye or maybe slit his throat with his knife. It hits him one morning, when he and Sansa both wake up around the same time, and she insists to break fast with him, so they get dressed together, each in a corner of a room. Jon spends the whole time not thinking about her bare body only feet away from him, behind the folding screen, and he tries not to stare once she comes out of behind it. She's beautiful, that's the only thing he can think of as she stands there in her blue dress, a beautiful blue gown that makes the blue of her eyes pop, and the embroidery on it is very well done, intricate and detailed and it compliments the style of the dress well. A wolf's head sits on the center of the dress, around the middle, and Jon tries, desperately tries to not dwell on the collar of the dress, the low collar, that stops right at the line between proper and slightly showing, he tries to not to think about the skin under the collar, how it must taste, how it must fell, and how he so desperately wants to know.

« New dress? » He asks, trying to break the silence and forget about his unholy thoughts.

« I've made it myself, actually. » Sansa answers, looking down at the dress, brushing it with her small hands – Jon wants to know how they'd feel between his. « Do you like it? »

An innocent question, said in an innocent voice, by an innocent girl, and yet, Jon feels betrayed by the quickening beating of his heart. « I like the wolf bit. » He says, lowering his eyes, hoping she can't tell how nervous he is, how awkward he feels.

« Thank you, my lord. » She bows her head at him and she smiles, before he offers his arm and she places her hand delicately in the crook of his elbow and they make their way down to the dining room. And that's where they find his siblings, all three of them, and Jon is surprised to find Viserys sitting next to Daenerys; maybe his words did reach their destination after all.

« Morning, family. » Jon says, and they all raises their head at the words. Jon feels Sansa's tighten its grip around him and he can't blame her. He has to drop his elbow to pull her chair out, and she sits and thanks him with a nod and a smile. He takes the seat next to her, and hopes nobody notices when he pulls his chair closer to hers.

« How are you faring this morning, Lady Sansa? » Rhaegar asks. Jon watches Sansa carefully as the maids start to fill her place, and then his. If he hadn't felt her hand grip him so tightly only seconds before, he would not guess how nervous she is from her face or her voice.

« Very well, my lord. I am well rested this morning. I hope you are as well. » Sansa responds.

« Being well rested is a feeling I decided to let go when I started giving my council to the Sultan, my lady. » Rhaegar answers with a smile.

«Well, I am sure our Sultan does appreciate your council and everything you do for him. »

« Our brother is probably the only reason we aren't at war, yet. » Daenerys snorts while taking a sip of her orange juice.

« Well, you find me as grateful as our sultan must be. » Sansa answers, not addressing Daenerys condescending tone while Jon rolls his eyes as he plays with his food. « I don't like the prospect of a war very much. »

« Nobody likes the prospect of a war, my lady. » Viserys speaks up and Jon eyes him as he continues to speak, anger rising inside. « That's why we're here. That's how you live in a castle, in a palace being attended by maids. That's why you've never seen a drop of blood in your life. »

Jon is about to speak, about to put Viserys back in his place, about to teach him how to respect people, especially Sansa, and maybe he'll stick his fork in his hands for good measure, he very much wants to, but before he can do any of this, it's Sansa who voices her mind.

« I am very well aware of the privilege of my position, my lord, and I am very thankful for it, every day the Lord makes, that I was born in a family that has allowed me to never have known suffering or hunger. And I am thankful to have been wed to a family that I hope will keep that promise. » Her voice is strong, and her chin is slightly raised, her blue eyes sharp as she stares at Viserys, and Jon feels his chest fill with pride. The wolf bites after all, and he smirks when the thought settles and he doesn't even hide it, only looks at Viserys' face, only looks at the obvious anger and Jon is so, so proud of Sansa, he could kiss her. He wants to taste the smirk playing at the end of her lips, it probably tastes of citrus and grapes, but he's good for now. He doesn't have to know right away, it's too soon, they don't know each other, she wouldn't like that. Right now, watching Viserys storm from the room and Daenerys following him is enough to make him happy for the day, or even the week.

« Well, my lady, I think we all are thankful that you came into our family. » Rhaegar says, and he doesn't hide the joy in his voice either. « For only the joy of seeing someone other than us putting our brother in his place. »

« Glad to oblige, my lord. » Sansa responds with a chuckle and she raises her cup at him and Rhaegar mirrors her and Jon raises an eyebrow, trying to bury the awakening feeling of jealousy in him. They finish their breakfast in comfortable silence, before Rhaegar rises from his chair.

« I'll see you at the council later, Jon? » Jon nods at his brother and waits till he's gone from the room before turning to Sansa.

« I am so sorry for the way I talked to your brother! » Sansa speaks immediately. « I know I shouldn't have, I don't know what came over me, I- »

« Sansa », Jon grabs the side of her face with his hand, and she stops and lets out a long breath and flutters her eyes shut, and Jon pretends it doesn't do anything to his heart when she does, « You are your own person. You have your own opinion. And I am glad you spoke it today. » He tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, and he doesn't miss the way her lips part when his hands brush the side of her cheek. She's warm, soft, and this close, he can see the few freckles spread around her nose and cheeks; he wants to kiss them all.

« I was wondering... will you take a walk with me? » Sansa's questions surprise him, even more than her verbal jab at Viserys. She's bolder than he had imagined, not the delicate flower from the north he had thought. Maybe she  _ will _ survive in this hellish city.

  
  


Her hand is once again in the crook of his elbow, and it's a light touch but it's enough to anchor him as they walk through the gardens, making their way to the maze. Sansa has an arm extended, her fingers playing with the light branches like he has seen her do before and the silence isn't awkward or tense, it's there, and Jon has been wondering how he can fill it. Every question he can think or sounds stupid and uninteresting, he doesn't want her to think of him as uninteresting or stupid; he wants to get to know her, but where could he start ?

« Where else have you traveled? » Sansa's voice breaks his inner turmoil with her question and Jon is thankful for her.

« I have been down the coast a lot. I spent most of my childhood, travelling between the cities down the coast. After our parents' death, it took us a while to settle, we had no family left, the country was still trying to recover from the last crusade, but my brother Rhaegar, he made sure we always had a roof over our heads. So we traveled down the coast for a while, stayed at every inn, every house that would allow four children to stay for the night. I was only a boy but I remember looking at the sea every minute before falling asleep and thinking the world might not be so bad after all. »

« I am so sorry to hear about your parents' death, my lord. » She squeezes his elbow and he looks at her and finds her eyes on him. They're full of comfort and the smile he gives her is easy on his lips.

« Thank you, my lady, although it was a long time ago so I am not sure you have to apologize. »

« Still, it must have been hard. You were just a boy, and you had to grow up so fast after that. »

« I had to, yes. But I had my brother Rhaegar to guide me. »

« You two are close, I can tell. »

« He became our father once we found ourselves orphaned. » Jon tells her as they enter the maze. « He is... the best at everything, the best soldier, the best brother, the wiser of us all. Without him, we would all be doomed. It's truly thanks to him that we are close advisors to the sultan Murad. My brother saved him from being poisoned at a market, the sultan rewarded him with a place at court, and Rhaegar, noble as he is, said that if he was to have a place at court, then his siblings should too. »

« He truly is a noble man. »

« And you, my lady? » Jon asks, trying to divert the conversation to her, eager to know, to discover. « What about your family? I am sure your story must be happier than mine. »

Sansa sighs but it's light and with a smile; the sun is shining in her hair, lighting it on fire, it makes Jon wants to touch it, feel it, tug it.

« Well, my parents are very much alive, thank the Lord for this. And I am sure you remember my four siblings. We are a big family, very tight and close to one another. My brother Robb is the only one who is married like me. You remember him and his wife surely from the wedding. »

Jon nods. « I do. A lovely pair. She is a girl from your town? » Jon remembers seeing a young woman sitting next to Robb at the wedding.

« Indeed. They've been in love since they were kids. » Sansa smiles as she speaks. « I remember when Robb came back that day. Being the first two, we grew up to be very close, and we would tell each other everything, and one day, he came home, and I just knew from the look on his face. I just knew he was in love. He told me about her, and said he was going to marry her. He was only 7 but he said it with such confidence, such assurance, I remember thinking he was a fool. But twelves years later, he was still in love and our parents couldn't deny them the match so they agreed. I had never seen him as happy as the day they got married. »

Jon looks at her, and hears the longing in her voice as she speaks, sees the wistful expression on her face, and he feels awful now. He robbed her of this, this life of love, he robbed of a life of happiness; she could have had it, she could have had it all. She could have had love, she could have had happiness, she could have married someone she actually loved, instead of being stuck in this city with him.

« Did you love someone back in Andrinople? » The question leaves him before he can stop himself and he bites the inside of his cheek in reprimand because, by Allah, does he  _ really _ want to know?

« No. » Jon releases the breath he was holding quietly. « I thought I did at some point, but they proved to be the opposite of what I thought they were. So that dream died quickly. »

« I am sorry, my lady. »

« Why? » Sansa asks him and she looks at him then. « You weren't him. »

« No, I am sorry you couldn't have the love you deserve. » Jon admits. « I am sorry I am not the one you wanted. »

She looks at him for a long time and she studies him, he sees it, sees how she studies his features, sees her quick brain work; he lets her, hoping she sees that he's indeed really sorry. « It could have been a worse match, I presume. »

« Yes, I suppose an advisor of the empire is not that bad. » He scoffs.

There, she stops in her tracks and he does too. «No, that's not what I meant. It could have been a worse match but it's not. Not because you're an advisor to the sultan, but because you're kind, and generous to me. I know you asked the cook to make my favourite dessert every day even though you don't have to. You don't force me to share your bed even though we're married and you could force me to do anything. You let me speak my mind even when what I say is disrespectful to a member of your family. You are a kind person, my lord. You are a good person.»

Jon feels like he's been pushed over a cliff for how dizzy he feels. Sansa's words echo in his brain and he wants to embrace her, he wants to know what it feels like to hug her, to hold her, just once. No one apart from Rhaegar has ever said such nice things to him, and even this... this doesn't compare to anything.

« Besides, love can be built. My parents did, as many people. Maybe we can build it too. »

« What if we can't? » He asks, fear transparent in his voice. « What if I can't give you what you want? »  _ What if I can't give you what you deserve? _ is what he doesn't ask.

«We'll work it out. I can wait. » Sansa answers him and she lets her fingers find his and oh, they're warm, they're so warm, and Jon is pulled back from his fall, caught by her eyes, grounded, secured and held. He's not sure who squeezes them first, but the pressure is the same around his heart and it frees an unbearable amount of fondness inside Jon's body. 

  
  


« Sansa Stark. The girl who waited. » He says with a light laugh.

She smiles at him. « The wait isn't as unbearable when you have someone to wait with you. » And Jon thinks she might be an angel, a goddess, a creature of heaven he isn't allowed to have because, how can she possibly be real and his to have? He doesn't deserve her, that, he is certain of, but Allah help him he'll do everything in his power to give her everything she deserves.

When Jon sees Viserys again, he's walking up the stairs to the council room where his brothers and sister are waiting. Viserys is pressed up against a young maid, blocking her from escaping with his arms on either side of her. The young girl looks rightfully afraid and Jon rolls his eyes at his brother's behaviour. He makes his steps louder on the stone steps and the maid suddenly turns her head to him, as Viserys who drops his arms from the wall, and the maid scurries away immediately. Jon stays on the lower steps, watching Viserys not even trying to hide what he was doing.

« You could at least keep your night activities where they belong. » Jon says. « In closed quarters with willing women. »

« She would have been willing once she'd had a taste of the dragon. » Viserys smirks, rearranging his sleeves.

« You're awfully repulsive. » Jon snaps. « Does it bring you joy to take everything you want by force? »

« You're one to talk. » Viserys snorts. Jon narrows his eyes in confusion. « You're a general of the sultan's army, you lead soldiers on to battle, you're only at the council because of all the blood on your hands, dear brother. Hell, even your wife is here because of your position. So don't talk to me about taking things by force. You're the one they call the White Dragon, not me. »

Pull and push, that's all it'd take. Viserys is light, lighter than Daenerys probably, his frail body would fly down those stairs. Jon's hands itch with the desire to do it, he could, he could always say it was an accident. Accidents happen all the time, it's true. But then, he remembers Sansa's words. _ If I let their opinion affect me, then I am no better than them _ . So instead of throwing his brother down the stairs, he lifts his chin up, and takes the two steps left between him and his brother so he can tower over him. 

« I wonder why that is. » Jon knows Viserys' self assurance is only a façade, he knows that deep down, he's just a scared little boy who for the longest time has never felt like he belonged. Jon knows the truth, because it's his too. But he has gotten better at hiding it. And he sees it in the way Viserys' expression shifts, how he looks at Jon and there's clear fear in his eyes, fear and pain and longing. But Jon has given up on helping Viserys a long time ago, he had never been able to get through to him, and is not going to try now; that ship has sailed away already. He walks past his brother, resuming his way to the council room where surely by then, everyone would be there.

~~

« My lady. » Sansa turns and meets Rhaegar's piercing dark blue eyes. « I was hoping you'd accompany me on a walk to the docks.»

Sansa is just coming out of the hedge maze and the sun is already making it was towards the horizon. She has flowers in her hands, and she should put them in water immediately, but she can't find it in her to say no to Rhaegar Targaryen and his offer. For a second, she wonders if anyone can.

« I would be delighted, my lord. » Sansa answers, and Rhaegar offers her his arm and she takes it with a smile.

They walk quietly for a while, both smiling at maids and people they meet on their way to the docks. Rhaegar is the first to speak. « How do you find Constantinople, my lady? »

« I haven't seen much of it, I have only been here for a little more than a week, but I very much like what I've seen so far. » Sansa answers truthfully.

« I hope you don't miss your home too much. » Hearing those words, it hits Sansa that she does. She does miss her home, and her family.

« I do, my lord. » Sansa says with a sigh she doesn't mean to let out. « Constantinople is a bigger city than what I am used to. »

« I am sorry if you ever feel uncomfortable. You must know that whatever is troubling you, you may tell me or my brother. We do like having you here, my lady. » Rhaegar speaks and Sansa hears the sincerity in his voice. « We'd hate to have you be miserable here. »

«I appreciate it, my lord. I really do. » She smiles at him and as he looks down at her, she notices a little purple in his eyes. « I appreciate everything your family has done for me. »

« If there's more we can do, I want you to let me or my brother know. »

« Not Daenerys or Viserys? » It's not that Sansa would go to them if anything was wrong, but she wants to know why Rhaegar, their own brother, doesn't seem to trust them.

« They wouldn't be of much help. » Rhaegar answers, his voice shifting from soft and delicate to hard and serious. « My brother and sister.. they're twins. They're in their own world most of the time. Nobody matters apart from them. They're... disturbingly close and no one gets them apart from themselves. It's best if you stay away from them honestly. »

Sansa nods. « Duly noted, my lord. »

« Please, call me Rhaegar, we're family after all. » Sansa smiles but something inside of her stirs. How crazy it is that she feels closer to her husband's brother than her actual husband?

Sansa wants to believe that she and Jon are good, they're not the best couple, they're not the ideal idea of love she had when she was a kid and her dreams were filled of knights and true love but they're good. They respect each other, he respects her and her opinion. But still, there's a whole world around him that she doesn't know about. Sansa sees how guarded Jon is, she sees how he is used to keep to himself; she sees how much it took to open up to her about his family, and even then, he hadn't talked much about what he was feeling. No, always about people, never about himself.  _ A guarded dragon and a scared wolf, what a funny pair, _ she thinks. But it has to stop though, they won't build anything if he stays guarded and she doesn't let go of fear, and if he can't be take the first step, she will. She's a Stark, and Starks have endured worse.

  
  


Jon enters their chambers as she finishes setting the table; she has just finished arranging the flowers and put it on the table when he steps in and she shows a smile while he looks at her. His curls are not tied in their usual bun, the baby hairs sticking to his forehead and neck; he's sweating, she can tell, the skin of his neck is glistening and Sansa is hit by the want to taste it. She gathers herself and clears her throat.

« I have arranged a bath for you before supper. » She says quickly. « I thought you'd like to be clean after your training session with Master Satin. » She adds, because she doesn't miss the way his eyes narrow for a second.

He seems to ponder over her words for a moment, and after a quick glance to the table, he nods. « Thank you, my lady. »

She smiles more brightly at him, and bows her head to him, before he disappears into their bathroom. She busies herself with the flowers and the plates, desperately trying to not think about Jon being naked in the bathroom, behind that door. She can't think about the white shirt he was wearing, damp with his sweat, sticking to his body, she can't think of the hot water kissing his skin, his muscles relaxing under the heat, she can't think of the clothes dropping from his body, leaving it bare. Sansa grips the cup she's placing near his plate so hard she thinks she might break it, trying hard to not think about any of this. Once he comes back from the bathroom, a good half an hour later, she has calmed down slightly and she could have remained so if not for the small curl falling on his forehead that makes her want to reach out and tug it back.

They chat comfortably for the first few minutes of dinner, and Sansa is happy for the diversion, finally her brain can push those unholy thoughts to the side for now.

« I heard you and my brother took a walk by the docks. » Jon says at one point. There's something cutting at the edge of his words, and Sansa frowns a little.

« I did. Lord Rhaegar was kind enough to ask for me as his companion for a walk. » She answers and studies Jon for a second. His jaw is clenched, and his hands are tight around his fork and knife. « Does that bother you, my lord? » She tempts, trying to see if she's right.

« Why would it bother me? » He says before putting a piece of meat in his mouth, and Sansa sees how his lips works, how they move, and she wonders if he's this rough with everything his lips tastes. She wonders if he'd be this rough if they were to kiss.

Sansa shakes her head lightly and shrugs at his words. « I don't know my lord. You're the one who mentioned it. » She's playing a dangerous game here, something tells her there's two ways this conversation can go, but she needs to know. She needs to know what he's about, why he is doing everything he does to her, protecting her, being generous, and yet still won't let her in. « Rhaegar is very kind to me. » The sentence is barely off of her lips that she hears him scoff. « Did I say something wrong, my lord? » She looks up at him, and she catches his grey eyes, they look dark though, in the candle lights, they look more brown than anything or is it something else? Sansa can't tell, but she keeps watching as he lowers his fork and sets his eyes on her; she wonders if he can hear how fast her heart is beating in her chest.

«I... I didn't know you two got along so well, that's all. » Jon says, but Sansa hears the hesitation in his voice.

She tries a smile. « Rhaegar made sure I feel very comfortable. He is very kind to do so. »

At this, Jon's eyes are filled with fury, there's no point denying it and Sansa bites her tongue to keep her from speaking further, she knows she has said something wrong. Why else would Jon react this way?

« Did he touch you? »

The question is a surprise, and even Sansa sees how he's taken aback for a second. Her veins are pulsing with fear, she's stupid, she went too far, she played too well and now he thinks his brother abused her. « That's not what I meant, my lord. »

« Then, why did you mean, my lady? » He spits the formality at her, anger sipping through him. « What has my brother done that was so kind that makes you call him by his name? »

Sansa lets his words being processed and she laughs. She laughs and it's a loud one, one that rips her chest open and one that doesn't leave her, even when Jon looks at her in pure confusion. She has to stand, she has to, and she does, and she takes a few steps letting the laugh take over her. « What's so funny? » He dares to ask.

She turns to him, and tries to bring herself to stop shaking. « You, my lord. » She means to say more, she means to tell him how he is infuriating, how he annoys her most of the time, how they've been married for days now and yet, she still doesn't know anything about what he thinks, and still... even with all this, she's still here, trying so hard to break the shell, trying so hard to reach out her hand so he can take it. She wants to hit him, she wants to slap him; maybe then she wouldn't feel so inexplicably drawn to him.

« I... I am funny ? » Now Jon is looking at her like she's crazy.

Sansa shakes her head. « Do you know what, this is pointless. Forget everything. » She drops her hands and moves towards the bed. She starts to take off her earrings and her bracelets, her hands go to the necklace around her neck, but her hair must have gotten tangled in the clasp because she can't get it off and now she regrets wearing it in the first place. It had been a gift from Robb for the wedding and she has been wearing it everyday, but now she really hates it and why can't she get it off?

« Here, let me... » She suddenly feels his hands over hers, pushing her hair out of the way, over one shoulder and his hands linger over her shoulders for a second – the gasp that leaves her is audible and she really hopes Jon doesn't notice the shivers running down her spine. His fingers are warm as they work on the clasp of the necklace and she tries to gather her breathing. The necklace drops from her neck and she takes it and puts it on the bedside table.

« Thank you. » She says, not turning around. She's awfully aware of how close he is, and if she turns, she'll be too close and she doesn't know if she can stand it.

« I am sorry for getting mad. »

Sansa frowns, her back still turned. That's... not what she was expecting. « You don't have to apologise, my lord. »

« But I do. » His hands move around her shoulders to turn her to him, and she hopes he doesn't feel how much she's shaking. She has to crane her neck to look at him, she can feel his chest moving with each breath he draws, and he's not looking at her, not really, he's looking at the space in between them, not caring how nonexistent it is, and Sansa wants to grab his face so he can look at her. « I am sorry I got mad. I shouldn’t have.»

Sansa sighs. He's apologising, it's a step, he's here, another step; so she takes a step too. She grabs the side of his face and raises it slightly so she can meet his eyes. His grey eyes are softer, the fire has died down, and she feels her fear leaving her. She's searching for something, anything that might tell her what she's doing wrong, but Jon Targaryen isn't the kind of person that's easy to read.

« Why won't you talk to me? » She asks and she hates how weak, how desperate she sounds, but here she is, standing before her husband, asking –  _ begging _ – him to trust her. « I just want to know you, Jon. We have to build this together, remember? I can't build on my own. »

« I... » He tries, and there's a sigh leaving his lips and she tastes it on hers, and suddenly, she wants to taste where it comes from. But before she can act on the thought, Jon speaks up again. « I am not sure you'd like me if you knew me. »

She rubs his cheek slowly and feels him leaning into the touch, his eyes closing and his mouth parting, and he looks so young now, so vulnerable and fragile. She brushes away the little curl falling on his forehead, just to twirl it around her finger and she smiles when Jon frowns slightly, and she lets the curl go. Her hand goes back to his cheek and she traces his cheek bone with her fingers and lets them drop to his lips. « I like what I see already... A little more won't hurt. »

Her fingers trace his lips, and Sansa can only stare as she sees his eyes get darker, the grey in them being less and less visible, but it's not anger, it's a different fire. He sighs deeply as her thumb stays at the corner of his mouth, his hand come to grab her waist and she feels his fists clenching at her sides and he's pressing himself closer to her body, and he's warm, no, hot against her, and she's sure he can feel how hot she is too, even through her clothes and in the way she doesn't step back.

« Sansa... » Her name escapes him and it's a plea, like a prayer. His forehead falls against hers, and her hand fall to his chest while his grab her neck. His fingers bury themselves in the small hairs at the nape of her neck, and for a second, the gesture feels familiar, like he's held like that before. She doesn't care though, all that matters is this, his hand on her neck, hers on his heart. It's the closest they've ever been, and she doesn't hate it. « I am sorry. I'll try to be better. »

« Just be yourself, it'll be enough. » She whispers against him and she feels him nodding against her. The hand that's not at her neck comes to hold the hand that's at his chest and he brings it to his lips. He turns it open and presses his lips to the palm, and Sansa's breath gets caught in her throat.

« Jon... » A chuckle escapes him. « What? »

« You've said my name. » He says and his lips find her forehead.

« I've said it before. » Sansa admits.

« Not like this. » Jon retorts. « I like it better like this. »

« I'll remember that. » And she doesn't mean to laugh, but this is good, better than everything she hoped for, and she stays in his embrace, held by his strong hands, and for a second, she lets herself appreciate it, she indulges it in the safety he brings. In the end, it'll be the only home she'll claim as hers, his arms, his warmth, his lips against her skin. 

~~

When Jon wakes up, nothing in his body hurts, that's what first hits him. His mind slowly awakes and he's not hurting, his body is relaxed, and there's a fragrance surrounding him, and he likes it. That forest, green scent, with a hint of sea salt and something else too. But he can't tell. He opens his eyes, slowly, not wanting to break the moment, he can't remember the last time he's felt so.. at ease. The room is still dark; Sansa is sleeping next to him, a breath away from him, her light snores like a lullaby to him. His smile grows as he keeps watching her; it's crazy to him, as he remembers last night's events. He had been stupid, jealous for no reason, but when he had enquired of his wife to the maids and they had told him she was with Rhaegar by the docks... let's say his training session with Satin had been more than welcome. And then, at dinner, all he could think of was her and his brother and she kept asking him questions and the fury inside of him had come out. It was only a flame, not a roaring, burning fire but it's probably for the better. She doesn't need to know how he is, she doesn't need to see, she can't; but it's harder to keep it in, she keeps pushing him to open up, to let her in - and Jon is scared that if she keeps asking, if she keeps pushing, he'll let her.

Sansa stirs a little next to him and Jon freezes. Did he wake her up? He hasn't moved much, but maybe she felt him waking up and now it's his fault that she's awake too? She doesn't open her eyes though, only scoots closer to him, like on instinct, and only stops when she's flushed against his chest, and her arm is secured around his waist and Jon is frozen in his spot because, shit, what is he supposed to do now? She's holding him, but she's still asleep, what if she wakes up and finds him holding her and hates it? What if she's not ready for that? He doesn't want to force her to anything, but she's the one who came to him so-

« Just hold me, Jon. » He hears Sansa mumbles and he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and slowly lets his arm wrap around her small frame. He can't help but bring her closer to him, as close as it gets, and there's no air left between them, all he can feel is her, and her sweet fragrance, and she lets a sigh when she feels his lips on her forehead and Jon thinks he might just let her in after all.

When Jon wakes up the second time, he's cold, and he feels an emptiness next to him, where Sansa used to lay. His arm is not pressed against her warm body and that's what drives him to open his eyes. The room is properly lit by the bright rays of the sun now, and he groans when the light blinds him.

« Well, someone is grumpy this morning. »

Jon turns around, and he sees Sansa braiding her hair by the window, basking in the sun. He turns fully and doesn't hide the way he stares at her. She's already dressed, wearing a lilac gown, fitted at the waist, that tiny waist of hers, he stares as her fingers move quickly in her red hair, red like fire, red like blood, and he thinks he must be in heaven. Sansa turns to him once she's finished, her smile bright and genuine and it stirs something in his chest, something awakens in him and he sighs as she walks closer to him.This feels so natural, her coming towards him while he's still in bed, the memory of her body at the edge of his fingertips...this is everything.

« I've called for breakfast. Would you like to stay and have it with me ? » She asks as she sits down on the bed. There's a few small red curls playing on her forehead, framing her face beautifully and Jon thinks _ subhanallah _ . He doesn't stop his hand from raising to touch them, and he wets his lips when he sees her mouth fall open at his touch. One movement, one push from his body and he could touch her lips, feel them, taste them, but no, no. He knows if he were to kiss her now, it wouldn't feel right to her. They're still new to this, they still have a lot to know about one another before that kind of intimacy happens.

« Allah be good, I have the best wife truly. » He says, and there's a glint in her eyes after he speaks.

«It's only breakfast, Jon. » Sansa says as she rises from the bed, but Jon stops her by a pull of her hand, and her fingers are soft in his, like he had expected them to be. He presses a kiss to her knuckles.

« Thank you, my lady. » He tells her, his voice full of sincerity, and there's gratitude in there too.

« Careful, my lord. Or else, I'm going to start thinking the people are wrong in calling you the White Dragon. » Sansa teases him, and she takes back her hand and walks away, but not before casting him another glance, a playful one, with a playful smile, and Jon feels something else stirring in his body, lower, and he lets out another groan before getting up.

  
  


He feels giddy as he enters the council room. His siblings are already there, waiting for him and the sultan Murad II, they're looking over the massive map laid out on the table. Jon immediately notices the change in the positions of the enemy's pawns on the map. This is going to be a long meeting.

« Greetings, family. » He says as he closes the door behind him. « Hope you're doing all well this morning. »

« You're late. » Daenerys says,with a pointed look and Jon rolls his eyes at her in annoyance. « That's unlike you. »

« Murad isn't here yet », Jon retorts. « Therefore, I'm not really late. »

As is summoned by his words, the Sultan Murad II enters, followed by his personal two guards. The Targaryen all bow their head at his entrance, and he acknowledges them with a sign of the hand.

« Tell me the news. » Murad says, and Jon knows by the sound of his voice it _ is _ going to be a long meeting.

« The forces of Mehmed make their way quicker than we anticipated, your Highness. » Rhaegar says. « They're getting closer to the border day by day. Our scouts have put them close to Andrinople. If their words are right, his army should reach there within a fortnight. »

« We need to send word to Andrinople. » Murad says and his eyes turn to Jon. « You need to tell your wife, I know you were uncomfortable with the match, but her family made the alliance and now we must use it. Tell her to write a letter to her family. Her father is the ruling Lord of the city, he needs to gather his men for battle. »

At this, Jon looks at the map, and feels the annoyance rising inside at the prospect of asking such a thing from Sansa. « I don't want to bring her into this. » He says through gritted teeth.

« You brought her into this when you married her. » Murad says, his chin up. « And this is a request from her Sultan. She'll have to do it whether she wants to or not. »

« Your Highness, I- » Jon starts but Daenerys is the one interrupting this time.

« It's a command, Jon. » His sister snaps. « If she has a problem with obedience, maybe we shall remember her what happens to those who have that same issue. »

« Touch her and I'll kill you myself. » Jon's voice is calm, but he knows Daenerys feels the anger, the fury, the madness slipping through his words. He glares at her and for a second she looks at him in utter surprise, as if she hadn't expected such a reaction from him.

« You would forsake your family for a girl you barely know? » Daenerys spats a moment after she recovers. Jon sees the way Rhaegar tries to stop her but she continues. _ Let her, _ Jon thinks _ , let her so that when my hands are around her neck, she'll know why _ . « You would forsake your own blood for her, for a pair of legs? »

« Keep talking and see where that gets you. » Jon threatens, his hand gripping the pommel of his sword.

« Stop it! » Murad exclaims. « Both of you! I keep you here, because you four are the reason we are not at war yet, and I will not have you fighting like children over a piece of bread! » He exhales loudly and Jon tries to calm down, at his sultan's words. « Jon. If it makes you uncomfortable, I understand. But we made this alliance for a reason, and you know that. Your wife knows that. And she needs to make sure her family knows that too. »

Jon bows his head, in acceptance. « As my sultan commands. »

« Good. » Murad turns to Rhaegar. « How soon can the men be ready in case of a siege? »

« The most trained would only need days, your highness. The young ones still in training would take a bit more to get ready. »

« Let the generals know that we might need all of the men standing. » Murad orders and Rhaegar bows his head. « Good, as I am sure we'll be waiting for this, let's talk battle plans so then we can move on to taxes...»

  
  


Jon is standing on the balcony of the second floor, looking down on the hedge maze, watching Sansa make her way through the lanes as she usually does. Jon knows he should go down and ask her already. He's been debating on how to do this ever since he came out of the council room, and it's been hours. But he can't, can't find it in him to do it. He looks at her, and how ? How can he bring her into this world, this dark world, full of blood and cunning.

« By the look on your face, I see you haven't done it yet. » Rhaegar's voice breaks Jon's solemn moment and he glances as his brother approaches to stand next to him. Rhaegar looks on the maze, just like Jon, and he lets escape a sigh. « She really is a beauty of another world, isn't she? You're lucky to have her. »

« I don't have her. » Jon retorts before he can stop himself. Rhaegar frowns at him. « She's her own person. She doesn't belong to me. »

Rhaegar laughs silently. « You are way too honourable, brother. It'll get you killed. »

« I'll watch my back. »

Sansa takes a turn in the maze, but then stops, looking around, seemingly having lost her way. Jon wants to run, wants to run to her and help her, hold her like last night, and take her away, they could leave. He could take her away, away from this city, away from this forsaken world. They could have a life outside of these walls. A dream, a sweet dream, there, out of reach. After a moment, Rhaegar speaks again.

« Daenerys is most angry with you. »

« Good. » Jon says immediately and now Sansa is tracing back her steps but she's still going in the wrong direction. « Maybe she'll learn to keep her tongue then. »

« Now we know that's never going to happen. »

« A man can dream. »

Rhaegar chuckles and Jon lets himself smile but it doesn't last. « Go, help her. » Jon adverts his eyes and find his brother's. « She's a good person. If you explain everything to her, she'll help I'm sure. »

« That's not what I am afraid of. » Jon admits.

« Don't be so afraid, brother. » Rhaegar bumps his shoulder in an affectionate gesture. « Something tells me she might surprise you. »

Jon looks down at the maze once again, a fond smile appearing on his face when he spots Sansa looking around again. Jon nods farewell to his brother before rushing down the stairs. He doesn't care that he's running, he doesn't care for the strange looks the maids give him on his way down. He enters the maze and runs around the lanes, trying to catch a glimpse of red hair. He can hear her steps, he can hear her shaken breaths. He calls her name, hoping she can hear him too. He hears his name being called back.

« Sansa?! » He calls once more, stopping. « Follow my voice! » He keeps calling her and he keeps walking as he listens to her voice too, calling his name in the afternoon. At a turn, he spots her and he's next to her in a second, catching her by the waist and she yelps when he does, and he laughs and she punches his chest, with an annoyed smile.

« My lord. You scared me. »

« My apologies my lady, I am only here because I thought you needed assistance finding your way out. »

« I am not lost! » Sansa cries out, quite offended.

« Didn't seem that way from where I was standing. » Jon admits and Sansa quirks an eyebrow at him. A smirk appears on her lips, but she hides by looking down at her gown, and brushing away a few creases.

« You were watching me? » She inquires, rather innocently but there is something there, hidden beneath the surface, but Jon can't touch it yet.

He bows his head in admittance. « I was. » He narrows his eyes at her. « Does that bother you? »

She shakes her head and bites her lip, and Jon wants to pull at it too. « Why were you watching me? »

Jon suddenly remembers why he's here, why he's here so close to her, in a maze. « I... Our Sultan has requested something of you. »

At this, Sansa's attitude shifts immediately. « Of me? Have I done something? »

« No no, absolutely not, you're perfect. » He bites his bottom lip, the words escaping him. « We should go back to our chambers and talk of this in a more private setting. »

She looks at him with furrowed brows and Jon tries not to show any of his own hesitation. He has to be strong, if not for real, then he'll fake it. He offers her his arm, and she takes it but her fingers are light on his forearm, barely there and even as they walk out of the maze together, he's never felt more distance between them than now. 

~~

Sansa can only stare as Jon paces in the room. He hadn't wanted to sit next to her, and she can feel the anxiety coming out of him in strong waves.

« Jon, what is it? » She asks, feeling nervous too.

He stops for a beat, looking down at her, and it's with soft eyes but his body is still tense. She wishes she could let him know it's okay, let him know she's there.

« I have to be honest with you. » Jon starts. « And I... You're not going to like it. »

« You're scaring me. »

« I'm scared too. » He whispers, more to himself. He keeps pacing before turning his back to her. « Our marriage wasn't just an alliance in your favor. It was also one for us, for the sultan to use in times like now. We had hoped that by marrying you, it could forge a faith between the cities of Andrinople and Constantinople. So that when war comes, we would be ready. » He stops, and she sees him rubbing a hand all over his face. « I wish it had taken longer, but we require to see the fruit of the alliance now. There's an army approaching, they're almost at the border and if we wait only one second, we'll be ruined. That's why the Sultan has requested that you personally send a letter to your family, to ask them to ready their men. Andrinople is the closest city, and they'll probably want to attack there first, to send a message. »

She lets the words linger in the air, letting them make sense, letting her realize the weight they hold. It hits her all at once, and the realization dawns on her. Slowly, a laugh starts to come out, quiet at first, gradually becomes louder before ripping from her chest. She gets up, and lets it out. She unties a few laces from her corset hurriedly, and she doesn't care if Jon looks at her with wide eyes and confused furrowed brows. Why should she care? She's only a tool, a pawn on their board.

« Will that be all, my lord? » She throws the words at him, and if she were a man, she would kick him. Jon looks at her in confusion. « Will that be all or do you want me to lay and open my legs for you before you go into battle? Would that satisfy you? »

Her words obviously shock him because his mouth fall open and closes repeatedly for a few minutes. She looks at him, anger flowing through her veins, she feels suffocated, like water filling her throat and she wants to yell but it's already filling her lungs and she can't, she can't, she can't, she-

She lunges at him and hits his chest with her fists and she must look ridiculous but she doesn't care, she hits and hits and hits and he takes them and she doesn't know why he's not fighting back, she wants him to fight back, she wants him to stop her, to catch her wrists and tell her to stop her nonsense. But he doesn't, he lets her and takes her punches in silence. _ I hate you _ comes out a few times, and she thinks she hears him answer with an  _ I know _ each time, but it doesn't matter. She doesn't know when she starts sobbing, but she only realizes when his tunic is soaked with her tears once she steps back. She looks at the wet spot and she finds herself full of hate. She takes his tunic in her fist, and Jon is startled when she brings him closer to her.

« You said... you would never force me to do anything. You lied. » She sees the pain in his eyes, she sees the way his eyes look for hers, look for forgiveness, and she thinks  _ good, let him beg for it. _

« I am sorry, Sansa. I wish there was another way. » He whispers and she's so close to his face, his breath is hot against her cheek, and she wants him to hurt, she wants to feel like she does right now. Used, like a toy. « I never wanted it to be this way. »

« What did you want, _ my lord _ ? » She pushes him, watches as the formal title makes his jaw clench and she wants to bite him where the muscle tenses. 

« I... I didn't want this. » He answers, and his voice is hoarse, like he's trying deep down to contain himself. « I didn't want to bring you into this. »

« You should have thought about it before you married me. » She doesn't mean to say this, but her brain and tongue are working on their own now, and she watches as he takes a step back from her.

« Don't be like this. » He says, and she sneers. « This isn't you... »

« But here's the thing, my lord. You don't know me. You don't know who I am. You married me because of what I could bring you, not for me. »

«That's not true! » Jon retorts and she scoffs louder.

« You're just liars. Ah ! Arya was right, men only care about one thing! Is that why you played nice all along? So I would do as you please? The sweet Stark girl, the sweet little wolf, well, here's a piece of information for you, Lord Targaryen, wolves bite and my grip is sharper than most. » She pushes him hard and he stumbles back slightly and he looks at her in shock. «Are you going to dispose of me after I do what you want? Use me then push me to the side and use me when you're bored? »

She keeps yelling at him, pushing further into the room, before Jon grabs her wrists, stopping her with one forceful pull. His lips are on her before she can protest, and she tries to fight him at first, but he's strong, stronger than her, but she keeps trying to wriggle out of his grip and he lets her. She parts, from him out of breath, and she's surprised to say the least. He's looking at her with that hungry look, and she has seen it before, has seen the way his eyes roam over her, has seen the way he seems to see right through her. Can he see her pain? Can he see her hurt? Can he see her wants? Can he see why?

She wills her brain to stop thinking and reaches for Jon again, bringing him down by the neck and she pushes her lips against his, and he brings one hand around her neck, keeping her against his mouth, and the other one pulls her at her waist and she obliges by pushing her body against his. Jon lets out a groan and she feels it resonate through her chest, and she smiles and god, this. His lips are soft, and they're spreading a heat inside her veins, she can feel it in her bones, for the way her body feels like it could catch fire if she keeps going – but she can't stop.

Jon's mouth leaves hers however and she frowns in confusion and opens her eyes to glare at him, and she chases his lips again, and brings him down for another kiss. He lets her take control, and she bites his bottom lip and he gasps and she takes that as an invitation to invade his mouth and he lets her, and she likes it, likes his surrender to her, and she wants to chuckle when he moans in her mouth, and the way his hand pulls the gown at her waist makes her moan too, his hands are full of want, and he fidgets with the laces at her back and she understands, and she brings her hands in her back to help him, but that seems to ground him because then his fingers catch hers and stop them.

« Wait, wait, wait...» He says and he's out of breath,his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are glossy and his lips are swollen and Sansa loves that it's all because of her. « We're not thinking straight. We should stop. This... This is not how I imagined it. » His fists are back at his sides, and she longs for them to be back on her skin.

She looks at him and shakes her head. « And how did you imagine it? » She can't believe she's asking him, she can't believe she dared. But she wants to know, she needs to know. She needs to know she's not the only one wishing she wasn't sleeping alone in a massive bed every night.

He stares at her for a few minutes, his fingers finding her cheek and brushing away the few curls that fell out of her top braid. « We would know each other better. We had spent time knowing each other before thinking about it. It would have happened slowly, I would make it good for you, I would take my time, make you feel everything I am feeling, I would show you how good it can be. »

His fingers trace a pattern around her face and she feels dizzy, his words sound... exquisite. It must be the lack of oxygen that makes her dizzy, and say the next words out of her mouth because they don't sound like her at all. « If I write to my family, would you show me still? »

Jon's thumb stops at her lips and she parts her mouth to give a tentative lick and he gasps again, and she pushes her body against his. She feels him against her, and she closes her eyes, letting the hunger she has for him settle down, but how? How can she think of calm when he's there, driving her mad? She moves instinctively, rocking against him and his hands immediately grab her waist to stop her.

« Don't, I-... I won't be able to stop. » Jon tries, and she backs away, her eyes locked on his, and she stops at the table.

« Who says I wanted you to? » She says and not a second after, Jon has her up on the table, his mouth attacking hers, and this time he doesn't stop her when she bucks her hips against his, only meets them halfway and she thinks she might reach her peak just from that, his mouth on hers, and their hips rocking. But then, Jon starts to kiss her neck and she moans louder then, and lets out a small cry when he bites the tender skin while he only laughs and mumbles a short  _ sorry _ before resuming his licking and sucking, but she knows he's not. His hands move around her skirts and find her bare legs and she gasps when they make their way down her center, where she needs him most. She begs him to do something, to hurry otherwise she'll lose it, but he doesn't. He does seem keen on taking his time with her, but she doesn't want him to.

« Jon, please... » She pleads. He leaves her neck and his lips are pink, there's a drop of blood at the end and she wants to lick it, but she'd rather have him lick something else and she grabs one of his hands to where she needs him, but he stops her. « Stop teasing me, I- »

« Bed. Now. » He says and it's an order, a command, and something about him feels dangerous, something about him makes  _ her  _ feel dangerous. She obeys, but goes slowly, decides to tease it a little, and while she's walking to the bed she starts to undo the laces of her gown. Her hands reach for her back and she goes at it slowly, she knows he's watching, she can feel his eyes on her, and soon enough her gown fall to the floor, leaving her in her small clothes and only then she turns to him and sits on the edge of the bed. He looks at her, his eyes dark, full of lust, she knows it now, and she can't believe she never realized before, but now she knows she always wants it to stay that way. She sits further on the bed, and he starts his walk towards her. He kneels in front of her, and takes his hands to his lips.

« Good girl. » He says, in  _ that _ tone, and Sansa is drenched then, but it's nothing where he lifts her shift off of her legs to find her bare cunt. He presses his lips to her thighs and she moans, and falls back on the bed, her body giving up to the feeling. He makes his way up and when his lips finally reach their destination, she thinks she might die from the sensation. It's overwhelming, and everything, and his tongue is a wonder, and she cries out his name, her hands buried in his dark curls in a tight grip and his beard is burning the inside of her thighs, but she doesn't care, she doesn't care, she just wants him there, always and always and oh,  _ oh, oh _ . She can't even speak or scream when she peaks, she can't even breathe and she thinks she might actually die, she even thinks her vision blurs at some point too.

Jon leisurely licks around her core as she rides out her high then makes his way up her body. His lips find hers again, and she can taste herself on his tongue, and nothing will ever top this for her. They kiss lazily for a while, before Sansa flips them over in a quick move. Jon is once again shocked, for the way his eyes widens for a second and then a smirk appears on his lips. « Thank Allah for you. » He whispers before he brings her down to meet his lips again, and she rocks against him, and lets her hands wander. She undoes the laces of his fitted coat and discards it rapidly. She then attacks his breeches and wastes no time in dragging them down his legs. When she sees him, she know he's above average, she has never seen something that huge before, but somehow, the thought only makes her hungrier. She straddles him and he looks at her with softer eyes now. « Are you sure you want this? » Of course, he would ask this now, both of them naked, flushed and already half in the middle of  _ this _ . She rocks her hips against him, rubbing his member against her core and his head falls back and he groans with a  _ shit _ . She laughs and continues her movements at a slow pace, giving him the tiniest amount of friction to drive him over the edge.

« Shit, Sansa... » Jon breathes out and she loves it, loves how her name sounds in his mouth, she wants to taste it, wants to taste how his skin feels under her tongue, and she does. She lowers her lips to his neck, and starts sucking, licking, repeating his actions from before. The sounds leaving his mouth must echo hers from earlier, and she's never felt more proud in her entire life. As she keeps tasting his skin, marking him as hers, she takes his member in her hand and guides it to her entrance. He exhales and meets her eyes when he enters her, she brings their foreheads together and he pushes the motion by kissing her as he starts lifting his hips and she moans because oh,  _ oh god _ . Another thrust and he hits her  _ right there _ again and she can't kiss him anymore, she buries her face in his neck and grip his shoulders while he thrusts into her slowly, at an agonizingly slow pace, and she begs him to go faster but he doesn't and this time they both peak at the same time and it lasts longer, and Sansa is out of breath completely, she's seeing stars. She feels his lips on the side of her hair, and the truth hits her suddenly, like a brick thrown at a wall. She loves him. She thinks she must, because what she feels right now is bigger than anything she's ever felt before. It's stronger, it tugs at her core, it runs through her veins and fills her with a new sense of purpose, and when she meets his eyes, and sees his smile, bliss written all over his face, she thinks it must be worth it. 

~~

Jon's fingers fiddle with the lock of hair falling on Sansa's shoulders, twirling it around his finger, while they gaze into each other's eyes. They're still in bed, glistening from their lovemaking, their legs tangled together. If he were to look now, he wouldn't know the difference between his legs or hers, they're one and the same. They still have to talk about the letter, about the future, about them, about how none of what happened was in his plan.

« Is there really going to be a war? » Sansa asks. You can count on her to cut to the chase and speak the truth when he wants it the least.

He nods slightly, not wanting to voice the truth. She sighs. « When do I have to write the letter to my family ? »

« Sansa, you don't have to. » Jon retorts now, pushing himself up and he lets the lock of hair go to cradle her face in his hand. « I'll talk to the Sultan, we'll find another option. »

Sansa stares at him, with surprise in her eyes. « You'd really do that? For me? »

« I would do anything for you. » Jon answers immediately, and he waits, waits for the regret of speaking those words out loud, waits for the disgust on her face, waits for the rejection. But it never comes, she only pushes herself up and kisses him, fully and he lets her get on top of him, straddling him again. The kiss is soft but passionate, and Jon feels overwhelmed by the need to take her again, make her feel everything he's feeling in this moment. He pushes her back on the bed, and Sansa moans when he slips his tongue in her mouth, he lives for those sounds she makes, the push of her hips against his, his good little wife, his little wolf. He parts from her mouth and goes to bite her ear, earning an unholy cry from her. « Turn around, love. »

Sansa looks at him expectantly and does as she is told. She's laying down on the bed and Jon admires her for a moment, his body on her, letting his fingers trace the outline of her back, memorizing that smooth skin, the freckles down on her back. She chuckles, her face in the pillow and makes a mental note to remind himself of her ticklish spots. He drops a kiss on her shoulder and he's met with a humming sound from her, and he continues, only to want to heart it again, and again and again. He gets on top of her, making sure he doesn't crush her with his body weight and starts pressing kisses on her neck and down her spine, tracing a pattern with his tongue, he bites into her shoulder and he notices how her hands grasp the sheets, balled fists of silk, and she's raising her hips to meet his but he keeps her down.

« Patience, little wolf. » He whispers against her skin and he feels her shiver and it makes him twitch, the effect he has on her, knowing that this is because of him. He almost wants to forget about patience and take her right then and there, but the  _ yes, my lord _ he hears is enough to make him fully hard now, and, yes, fuck patience really, but he has to make it good, he wants to make it good for her. She deserves it, his good little wolf. His, his, his, all his. He places himself at her entrance, and slowly rubs and he hears Sansa muffle something in the pillow. He thinks it's something like _ please _ or  _ tease _ , but he can't tell. He grabs her chin and turns her around.

« What was that, my lady? » He asks, and he can't help but press a kiss to the corner of her lips.

«  _ Please. _ » She bats her eyelashes at him, and if he wasn't already so gone for her, this would do the trick.

« As my lady commands. » He says and he kisses her fully then, and she's the one biting his lip to gain access in, and he gladly lets her while he enters her on his own too. She gasps a little in his mouth, and he smirks because she feels so good, she's taking him so well, such a good little girl, and she pushes back against him, meeting his slow thrusts, with an equally slow pace and it drives him mad with want. He needs release and judging by the way Sansa pants under him, his whole body covering her, as he peppers kisses all over her fair skin, slowly thrusting in and out, filling her to the best of his capacities, committing every inch of her skin to his memory. He thinks he must hit her sweet spot because Sansa lets out a cry, and he stops, thinking it hurt her but she immediately tells him,  _ no please, don't _ ,  _ please _ and who is he to disobey? Sansa arches her back, pushing her hips against his and he obliges to her silent request. He's so close and she is too, he can feel it by the way she wraps around him, so tight and good, and it takes them a couple more thrusts to peak and they do it together and Jon feels Sansa tightening around him a few times as he does, and gosh, the things she can do to him, he almost chokes on the feeling. They both recover slowly, Jon taking his time by covering her skin with his lips. She turns around and even though Jon loves having her body pressed against his, able to feel every inch of her, but the taste of her lips on his, the feel of breasts against his naked chest, this is so much more.

« I think I've ascended to heaven. » She says against his lips. He kisses her cheek and settles in her neck. He never wants to leave her, never wants to leave that sweet scent of hers, he wants to bask in it, drown in her fragrance. She presses her lips against his temple and he hums against her skin.

«If you're in heaven, then I'm in heaven too. » He whispers and she laughs against him, her whole laugh echoing through his chest, grounding him, and he thinks he falls asleep there, her laugh the last thing he hears.

  
  


When Jon wakes up again, Sansa is gone from the bed. He knows, without having to open his eyes, and that's what drives him to open his eyes. He notices her immediately, she's sitting at the table, her back to him, and he pushes himself up on his elbows. She's wearing a nightgown, but he can see her bare legs sipping out of the silk robe and he wants nothing more than to get up and trace those sweet legs of hers, and she turns to him, before her name even drops from his lips. Like she knows, like she knows he was about to call her. She smiles, a small one, and something inside him thinks something is wrong. She rises and he sees the quill fall from her hands; she crosses the space between them and sits by his side on the bed.

« I wrote the letter. » She links her fingers with his. «You can send it in the morning. »

He sighs, defeated. « I am so sorry. I never wanted this for you. You don't deserve this.»

« I don't think... we live in a world where we can get what we deserve anyway. »

« But I got you. » Jon says, and it's a cry from his heart.

« And you don't deserve me? » Sansa asks, and he doesn't know why they're talking about this, but he doesn't want to break the bubble of honesty surrounding them.

« I don't think I could ever deserve someone as good as you. »

« Don't say that. » Her fingers come to the side of his face and he leans in, indulging into her warmth. « Maybe, you did something really good in another life and God decided to reward you with me. »

He smiles at her little childish voice at the end and she laughs and he laughs too, because this is funny, because Jon is not much of a believer per say, sure he goes to the mosque every now and then but he's not sure Allah remembers him much these days. But maybe, Sansa's God does.

« Wait. » He pauses. « Your God or mine? »

Sansa pouts, and looks at the ceiling, taking a deep thinking expression and she looks so much like a child, and Jon loves her then, loves her so much. And he's not just realizing this, but it hits him all the same, and he thinks he'll never truly comprehend how it happened. But it's here now, this truth, and she's here. For some reason, it's all he cares about.

« Maybe your God and mine talked and they came up with it. » She finally says and Jon wonders.

He stares at her for a moment, pondering over her answer and he takes her hand in his. « Does it bother you that I don't share your faith and your God? »

Her smile falls and for a moment, she seems to think, and Jon wishes he could know her every thought, wishes he could be privy to them, unfiltered, unchanged. Maybe someday she'll trust him enough to give them to him that way. Sansa shakes her head. « It used to bother me. You have faith in a God that I don't know, that doesn't know me, and I don't understand it. I don't know your customs, I don't know how you pray and the correct way to do so according to your faith. I used to think I could not marry someone who doesn't understand my faith. And yet, here I am, married and in love with a man that fits this description. But you're kind, and not at all what I expected. So no, it doesn't bother me anymore, because I know you are more than your faith. You're Jon Targaryen, there’s so much to know and discover about you and so much to love, your faith is only a part of you. »

Jon doesn't know when he sheds his first tear, he doesn't know but Sansa wipes them away. He brings their foreheads together and their noses bump together, and his throat is tight and his voice is hoarse when he speaks. « I really don't deserve you. »

Sansa chuckles against him. « You earned me. »

« And I'll keep working to earn you every day. » Jon says and it's Sansa who kisses him first. And he'll die with her lips on his, he knows this for a fact, as strong as he knows the sun rises in the east, he'll die at the edge of her lips, for her love, for their selfishness, for their greed. « I promise you, Sansa. I love you, I'll protect you, no one will ever hurt you. If someone looks at you or even breathes wrong in your direction, I'll rip their throat with my own teeth. » She looks at him with disbelief for a quick second, but it's replaced by hunger and something else. She's looking at him like she's starving and he's her favourite meal.

« Sometimes, you sound more wolf than dragon, my lord. » And she takes his lips and Jon feels her need, her will to have him, to keep him and she doesn't need to, because he's hers, hers, all of him, hers, always, hers, exclusively. 

~~

The letter leaves in the morning and Sansa's fingers trembles at her sides when Jon tells her. He notices and takes her hands in his. He kisses them softly, so unlike all the kisses he left on her skin before, and she shudders under his lips. It's barely there, only the ghost of his lips touch her but still, it's enough to make her shiver.

« Everything is going to be okay. » He whispers. No, it won't; if everything is going to be okay, then why did she have to send a letter to her family, telling them to ready their men in case of an attack? If everything is going to be okay, then why does Jon look so grave and tense? If everything is going to be okay, then why is her heart breaking at the thought of him leaving her?

« Will you fight? » She asks. « If war comes, will you go? »

He nods slowly. « If the pretender's army crosses the border, I'll have to go and lead the men alongside my brother. » Her bottom lip quivers at the thought. « I would see Andrinople. » He tries to sound light, to sound hopeful but Sansa now sees through the façade easily. But she can't voice her worries, she knows it won't do any good to either of them.

« Maybe you'll even get to fight alongside my brother and sister. » She says and the thought sounds appealing. She can totally picture Jon and Robb and Arya fighting together, protecting their ancestral home from invaders. Gosh, how she would love to see it.

« Your sister fights? » Jon asks, an eyebrow raised, curious.

«She does. One of the best archers I know, but she still prefers the sword. » Sansa answers. « She says she likes to feel the blood of the man she just killed on her hands. »

« She sounds... nice. » Jon chuckles and Sansa does too but it fades quickly. « I wish I didn't have to leave.»

«Couldn't I come?» She asks but she already knows the answer. War is no place for a woman.

« If you came with us, I wouldn't be of much use on the battlefield. All my thoughts would stay with you, knowing you were so close. » It's not the answer she was expecting from him, but it's better than anything she could have thought of. Looking up at him, this man , and knowing of his love for her fills her with so much love too, she feels she could explode. Leaving the sweet warmth of his hands, she wraps her arm around his torso and hugs him. His arms circle around her immediately without missing a beat and she exhales into him, and breathes in almost as quickly, taking in his fragrance. It's strong, it surrounds her; molten iron, fresh leather and salty air of the sea shore. She loves it, she loves him, so she takes it in, and in the end, when he's holding her body crashing her lips with his for a last kiss, she won't find the darkness so dreadful.

She's on her way back from the small church, when at the turn of a corridor she hears hushed voices speaking. Sansa slows her steps at the sounds, and something tells her to stop and hide behind a pillar, leaning just slightly so she can catch what the voices are saying.

« The armies are getting closer day by day. We don't have much time. They said it had to be done before they break on the border and we still haven't- »

« How do we suggest we do it? His guards are always with him, and guarding his door at night, we can't exactly slit his throat while they stand there. »

« I thought my little sister would know better how to use what Allah gave her. »

« Don't play smarter with me. At least, the letter is sent and Andrinople is warned. »

« Your tone suggests you don't want them to fall. »

« Oh, I do... Trust me, nothing would please me more than to be there and hear them ring the bells when the siege of Andrinople starts. But they're one of the capitals of the Empire and if our plan works, we should think about that prospect. We'll have to form an alliance of our own... »

« You don't think of... »

« We'll have to... Don't make that face, I hate it too, but we'll have to. Just for appearances. I am not stupid like Jon to fall for their looks. After the siege, we'll find suitors that fit both of us. And then... »

Steps are heard and Sansa silently walks away from her pillar as swiftly as she can and hide behind the wall, waiting for the steps to go, her heartbeat quick against her ribcage. The words don't make much sense to her, but she understands the gist of what was said. But what strikes her the most is who the voices belong too. Voices she has grown accustomed to.

She's been quiet all dinner, she knows she has. Not only because she keeps giving Jon one or two words answers, not only because of his worried long looks towards her. She hasn't been able to eat the food in front of her because of how tight her throat is.

« Sansa ? » Jon calls for her once more, and like every time he has tonight, she looks up and tries to smile as genuinely as she can. « What's wrong ? »

She tries to think of something, an easy lie to not worry him, but she can't think of anything, and she knows he won't believe her. She clears her throat and puts down her fork and knife. « I was just thinking.. Daenerys and Viserys like the Sultan, right ? »

At this, Jon frowns, he must think her crazy or stupid or whatever else, but Sansa has to know. She has to know, and right now she'll take everything. Jon waits a moment before answering her. « I don't think they like anyone other than themselves. » There's a deep, frightening honesty in his voice, and Sansa can't help but feel sad.

« That's not true. » Sansa retorts. « They love you, and Rhaegar. You are family. »

« And still, if there was a choice between themselves and us, I don't think Rhaegar and I would stand a chance. »

His words don't ease Sansa's nerves, on the contrary, they're flaming now, on the edge of burning her whole. She's fidgeting in her seat, trying to think of something that would make it reasonable, that would explain why she heard them talk about.. whatever they were talking about earlier. « But they wouldn't harm you or the Sultan, right ? » Sansa tries. « The Sultan helped you when you were kids, they wouldn't- »

She gasps as the first sob erupts from her chest, and Jon is near her before the second leaves her body. He kneels in front of her and takes her hand in his, the gesture comforts her and appease her, the circular moves of his thumb on her skin a familiar feeling, but still, her heart aches at the thought of the talk she heard.

« Sansa, please, talk to me. » Jon whispers. « Let me help.. »

Sansa wonders if she can tell him.Won't he find it strange ? Won't he find her crazy for saying things like this ? She trusts Jon, she does, as much as her body and soul allows her to ; and she's brave, she's a Stark, she thinks of her father and uncle, the best fighters she knows, and her brother Robb, her hero, her model, so brave and strong, and Arya, her fierce little sister, who never keeps her tongue in her mouth, who always speaks her mind regardless of the consequences. She needs to be brave like them.

« I heard Daenerys and Viserys talk about something, but I don't know what it means, and I am scared of what it could mean because.. » She bites her lips while Jon still looks at her. She takes a deep breath and gathers herself. « Jon. I think they want to try and hurt the Sultan. »

She sees her words go to him, she sees him process her words, she sees his eyes change as he does. His hands leave hers and she hates the emptiness she feels as soon as they leave her, but she doesn't move while he rises and takes a few steps back. He turns away from her, and she wishes he would let her in, she wishes he would tell her what he's thinking now, but she understands. In time, maybe he will.

«What did you hear, exactly ? » His voice is calm when he speaks, but it's rough and grave, and Sansa sees the dragon in him about to rise.

« They were talking about something that needed to be done before the enemy's armies cross the border, but they weren't able to because of the constant guards around the sultan. They said... they said they would love seeing Andrinople be sieged and hear the bells themselves. They said when it's done, they'll have to think about alliances themselves, and that.. » She stops, the next words not finding their way out of her throat.

« That ? » Jon prompts, and Sansa sighs.

« That you were a fool for falling for my looks. » Sansa finishes. Jon is silent, and she wishes he would look at her, but his back is turned, and she feels anxious and nervous and wonders now if bringing it up was the best thing. « Jon ? » He doesn't answer, keeps his back to her, but she notices his fists clench at his sides. « Jon, what does it mean ? »

« Who else have you told ? » He asks, not answering her.

« No one. » Sansa says immediately. « I promise, you're the only one I've told. »

He turns to her and for a second, all she sees is a dragon, and he is, for the fire burning in his eyes, for the way he looks so threatening, and she almost feels scared. But his gaze softens when his eyes settle on her, and he is back at her side in an instant. His hands find hers again and she almost moans when his warmth surrounds her again.

« I know, I trust you. » He says, and he punctuates his words with a kiss to her knuckles. «Sansa, you mustn't tell any of this to anyone else. I mean this, no one must know. Do you understand ? »

« I won't tell a soul, I promise. » She nods rapidly. « I am sorry, I just.. I didn't mean to hear them, I swear. »

He caresses her hair, and lets his hand find her cheek. « I am not angry. I am not. You can stop being afraid. »

« I am not afraid. » Sansa retorts, and Jon gives her a small smile. He lifts himself up slightly to bring his lips to her forehead.

« I hope one day you won't feel the need to lie to me about this. » Jon says against her skin, and Sansa's fists clench in her lap. Can't he see though ? Can't he see she's not afraid of him, but for him ? What's going to happen now that she has told her ?

« What are you going to do ? » She asks, and Jon falls back a little so he can look at her at eyes level, one still secure at the back of her head.

« Don't you worry about this, love. I'll take care of this. »

« Jon.. »

« I'll take care of it. It's not yours to worry about. »

But it's hers to worry about. She's the one who heard them talk, she's the one who has now brought Jon into this, and what is he going to do ? What does he mean by he'll take care of it ? She doesn't want him to be hurt, she can't have that ; if Daenerys and Viserys can even think of hurting the Sultan, what's going to stop them from hurting Jon ? No, no, that's not possible. They're family. Family is thick, Sansa thinks about hers and knows that she will never think of hurting them or doing them any harm, she'll do anything for them, she will kill for them she'll learn later, but never harming them, no never. But then, she remembers Rhaegar's own words about his brother and sisters, and how Jon defended her against the twins when they kept taunting her and something tells her that this family is not like hers at all. The thought doesn't leave her, not even when Jon's arm wrap around her as she falls asleep her lips against his heart.

~~

Jon reads the letter over and over again, his eyes scanning over the words, and he tries to school his expression, trying to look as impassible as possible. He knows every one is looking at him, waiting for his reaction, his answer. The council had been called unexpectedly in the early hours of dawn, Jon had to live the comfort of Sansa's warmth and softness reluctantly and attend and right now, as his eyes scan over the words, he wishes he could be back in their bed, unaware of everything.

« So ? » Rhaegar breaks the silence.

Jon clears his throat and hands out the parchment to the Sultan so he can read it himself too. « Sansa's letter reached them too late. Mehmed's armies has crossed the border and attacked them all in one day. They've managed to hold them back but they're asking for men now otherwise the whole town is going to burn. » Jon says, trying to not shake thinking back on the words.

_ We lost many men. _

_ If there's another attack, we won't survive. _

_ We would need assistance from the Sultan's forces, if it pleases him. _

_ Please take good care of our sister. _

Jon's brain keep hearing Robb Stark’s words in his head. His brother in law sure knows how to get to the point, Jon knows where his wife gets it now. Jon turns to look at Murad, to check his reaction and Jon recognizes the feeling on the sultan's face. Fear. Dread. Worry.

« How soon can your men be ready, Rhaegar ? »

«If we start marching tomorrow, we can reach Andrinople in two or three days, Your Highness. » Rhaegar answers, a stoic expression on his face, but Jon knows better, he knows that tone and it doesn't help his nerves ; for he knows it means his brother is scared too.

« Prepare the troops. Send as many men as you can. » Murad turns to Jon. «You too, Jon. I knew your marriage is still recent but you'll need to leave too. »

Jon nods, but that's without question. He'll defend Sansa's home with his life. Two weeks ago, the prospect of a battle would have seemed boring to him ; he would have fought and if he had died, then that was it. He wouldn't have been more bothered, but now, the idea sets his veins on fire with the idea that he might never see Sansa again. Now that he knows what her laugh sounds like, what her smile looks like, now that he knows how she tastes, now that he knows what it feels like to be loved, to be held, to have someone waiting for him, he wants to live. More than ever.

  
  


After the council, his steps take him to the mosque in the palace. It's on the opposite side of his tower so the walk there is long, but Jon doesn't find it soothing or peaceful. He doesn't even nod or smile at the men he sees on his way, his eyes are set in front of him. He heads over to the little stone sink where he proceeds to do the wudu, and he hopes the water turn off the fire underneath his skin. He enters the mosque then, and takes a place before a mat in the back of the mosque. As he stands there, his body frozen in his spot, he can't help but wonder if Allah will listen to him one day. He has blood on his hands, he's cunning, ambitious, he loves a woman of another faith, how can he be a children of Allah when he doesn't respect the main principles of the scriptures ? Closing his eyes, he lowers himself to his praying position, staying for a few seconds more with his forehead against the ground. He recites the usual words in his head, not wanting to find out how foreign they feel on his tongue now, and adds a few prayers of his own in there too. He repeats it a few times, for good measure, and then leaves.

When he finds Sansa, she's in one of the common solar, in the company of other lord's wives. Jon stops in the doorway, leaning in the doorway, his eyes set on Sansa and he can't help but let the smile grow on his face as he watches her. She's smiling at a lady who's talking to her, while her hands are busy with a needle and thread. She looks so relaxed there, her smile is easy, her laugh loud and proud and Jon loves it, loves her, and he hates that he has to bring her such horrible news.

Sansa must sense him, because she turns her head and find him immediately ; he loves the smile that appears on her face, he wants to kiss it and find its taste under his lips, damn the ladies in the room. But he doesn't. Instead, he smiles back at his wife, and pushes himself off the wall to walk in. Many of the ladies raise their heads as he walks further in the room, and he bows his head to them before reaching Sansa.

« My lady. » He greets her, a genuine smile on his lips. She's radiant in this light, the morning light suits her, everything suits her, Jon thinks, his pretty wife, his smart wife.  _ His downfall _ , a voice in the back of his mind whispers.

« My lord. » Sansa says, bowing her head as well. « To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence ? »

« Only my self-indulgence, my lady. » Jon answers and she raises an eyebrow at him. « We didn't break fast together this morning, so I was wondering if you'd like to have a walk with me. »

Sansa studies him, and then nods. She turns to the lady next to her, whom she was talking to, and asks her to keep her work for her, to which the lady nods and Jon doesn't miss the wink she gives Sansa, nor the blush on Sansa's cheeks. Jon wants to hide his smile but he can't, he knows the ladies will talk about this, that the word will spread, that Jon Targaryen is so enamored with his lady wife that he'll personally request a walk with her if he hasn't seen her in three hours. But as Sansa takes his arm her fingers don't settle in the crook of his elbow, no they glide over his forearm and finds his own and she interlaces them and Jon gasps and he wants to kiss her right then and there. The gesture brings immense comfort to him, and he can't help but himself but drop a kiss to her temples, and he hears a few ladies giggling in their backs, but he doesn't care, and by the size of her smile, Sansa doesn't either, and that's all that matters.

They exit the room, hand in hand, and they walk in silence for a minute or two, before Sansa speaks.

« So are you going to tell me the real reason why you came to find me ? »

« A husband can't miss his wife ? » Jon protests, teasing, and he's stalling, he knows, but he doesn't want to break the bubble of peace around them right now.

« You could have let me known later. » She answers, and her tight around his fingers grounds him and he looks at her and he finds her blue eyes, waiting. He sighs in surrender.

« You really are a Stark. »

At that, she frowns. « Why are you saying that ? »

« Not here. » They're still in the corridors, and Jon knows too well that the walls have ears, especially at court. He leads her to their chambers and close the door behind them. He unwillingly lets go of her hands to go and close their windows. He then turns to her and crosses the space between them to take her face between his and kiss her properly. She answers as eagerly, her hands finding his neck while his hands secure her waist, pulling her to him, and he wants nothing more than to stay there, he wants to stay in this moment forever. Pressed against her, her lips on his, her fingers tugging at the short curls at the nape of his neck, his heart so full of love. But he has to break it, has to break the moment and ruin it by parting away. He inhales air, while Sansa's lips find his throat and she nuzzles her nose and he lets out a laugh because he is ticklish there, and he feels her smiling against his skin. He prompts her to stop and takes her face in his hands so she can look at him.

« Hello you. » He smiles at her, because right now, he can let himself be happy. He has to.

« Morning, husband. »

Hearing her say this word fills him with so much pride, so much joy, and so much responsibilities and he also knows how much he has to tell her right now.

« Your brother answered your letter. It came this morning. » He says, and he feels Sansa's arms tense around him.

« Robb answered ? » Her voice breaks when she speaks her brother's name and Jon wants to wrap her in his arms and not speak anymore, but it's already too late.

Jon nods. « The intel we received must have been wrong, because the letter says that our letter reached them too late. They've already been attacked. They've lost a lot of men. » Jon sees Sansa's eyes fill with tears and answer her next question without needing her to speak. « Your family is safe, but they did ask for the sultan to send his men to help them in case of another attack. »

Sansa lets out a long breath against him and her head falls on his chest, and he lets his own fall on the top of hers.

« When are you leaving ? » She asks, her fists tightening around his tunic.

« Tomorrow morning. »

She sighs. « So soon. » He doesn't answer, because what else can he say ? He hates it too. « We don't have much time. »

At this, he lifts her head again. « We have a whole life ahead of us, Sansa. » It's a lie, even then, he knows it's a lie. War doesn't discriminate, it just takes and takes and takes until the only thing left is blood. But right now, he needs to believe it. He needs to believe in it, so she can believe it. « I'll go to Andrinople, I'll fight alongside your brother and defend your home, and I'll come back to you. »

She only looks at him, tears at the edge of her eyes, but she blinks them back, like the strong wolf she is, and raises her chin higher. « If you don't come back, I'll come and find you and I'll bring you back myself. »

Gosh, he hopes he does, he prays he does come back to her, and once this is over, he'll give her everything, he'll give her the world, he'll give sons and daughters and they'll leave this corrupted city and live somewhere else, maybe move to Andrinople so she can be with her family. He prays Allah heard him this morning. He prays he can come back to her, to love her more.

  
  


The troops leave in the morning, and Jon is the last of the general to get on his horse. He takes ages to leave Sansa. Everytime he thinks he can do it, everytime he thinks he can let go of her hands, everytime he tries to look away and turn around, he can't and finds himself holding on, a little longer, one second more. Their forehead is against hers, and he's clutching her hands to his chest, and his throat is so tight, and he's given up on wiping her tears away, they're only matching his own.

« I'll come back to you, I promise. » He says. « I'll ride back with your brother and sister by my side, with a thousand horses won for you. »

« Don't ride back with a thousand horses. Just ride back. »

His lips press against hers in a hurried, forceful, fierce kiss, and she responds with an eagerness that makes his heart ache and his insides burn at the thought of being away from her, but he has to. If he wants to fulfill his vows, then he has to go, he has to leave. So he ends up being the last one to mount his steed, and even then , he can't take his eyes away, and he knows that he'll see her again, he has to, he can't leave her here, not here, not alone. He can't let their last kiss be their last kiss, can't let their last night be their last. Once he's mounted, the reins in his hands, he turns to her.

« I'll see you soon, my lady. »

« And I you, my lord. »

He looks at her one last time, one last time he tells himself and turns his horse and kick his heels and he can't help but feel uneasy, like he's riding into the wrong direction, like he's leaving a part of himself behind, like leaving his life behind. The feeling is foreign, but he knows it's all because of Sansa, everything he feels is now because of Sansa. 

~~

Sansa watches as Jon leaves on his horse, he's the last one to go, and she can feel the looks of disdain behind her, but she can't face The Targaryen twins right now. Not right now. Not when she can still feel Jon's lips on hers, not when the ghost of his hands is still there.

« It's always hard to see a brother go.. and now the two of them.. » Daenerys's honey voice comes to Sansa's ears and Sansa wants nothing more than to tell her to shut up, to leave her alone, but there's a lump in her throat and her bravery is gone, riding off on a horse, off to battle. « I can't imagine how hard it must be for you to see your husband go.Not knowing when he'll come back, if he's going to come back at all, or if he's going to say faithful.. »

At this, Sansa feels her blood boil. She turns to Daenerys, not caring for her stained cheeks or her red eyes, no. « Jon would never be unfaithful to me. »

Daenerys sneers. « Oh my sweet child. » One of her hands come to play with a lock of hair at Sansa's shoulders, and Sansa wants to cut her hands. « Men are men, they always will be. And they have needs. Especially at war, and their wives aren't there to fill them. Now what do you think happens when they need these needs to be fulfilled ? »

Sansa gulps and tries to imagine Jon with another woman. The thought tugs at her insides and immediately, she knows she can't let Daenerys know. « At least, he's not the one bedding his sister. »

The words hit Daenerys like a brick, and Sansa smirks before walking past her to leave, the sound of the marching men matching the rhythmic drum of her heartbeat. Maybe a reminder of what she is and what her relationship with Viserys is will keep her away. Sansa has heard the rumors, the women of the court talk after all, and Sansa has learned a lot about the Targaryens. Maybe accusing her sister in law isn't clever and only an act of defiance but for now it'll work. She walks back to the palace and her steps take her quickly to their chambers, and soon she's surrounded by emptiness, by a quiet that reminds her of Jon so much. She looks around the room, and she can see the tunic he discarded this morning when she had helped him dress, she can see the half empty cup of water he left behind, the grapes he never touched, because he'd rather kiss her and hug her than eat. He's barely gone and already she feels so lost, like a traveler without a compass, and tears leave her eyes again and she lets herself fall, gliding against the door, her sobs soon filling the empty room.

~~

Winterfell. Sansa has told him about the castle she grew up in, how big it is, how it was much smaller than the Sultan's palace, but still, home. And as Jon and his men emerge from the woods after three days of traveling and camping and riding and smelling his own sweat and dirt and odor, the castle is a welcome sight. He could fall to his knees if it wasn't on his horse ; Winterfell raises in grandeur, over the horizon, and Jon feels his lungs fill with fresh air for the first time in three days, he feels his heart exhale for the first time. He can hear Rhaegar and the men speaking around him, but all he can think about is Sansa. It's not the first time in the three days he's been away from her, no, but he feels closer, closer to her. Winterfell is her home after all. He wishes she could be there with him to see it, to see her home stand so tall and strong in this light.

He's brought back to reality when he sees riders breaking through the horizon. Three riders approach and Jon sees Rhaegar moves his horse closer to Jon's.

« Here comes the in-laws. » Rhaegar jokes, but his voice is grave, hard, and doesn't invite to a laugh like Rhaegar means it to, and Jon doesn't answer, mostly because he doesn't want to.

The riders slow their horses down, and Jon studies them. Two men and a young girl. He recognizes the Starks immediately, Ned Stark sits proudly on his horse, accompanied by his oldest son Robb and his young daughter Arya. They're all looking tired and exhausted, but Jon keeps himself from speaking those thoughts.

« My lords, » Ned Stark speaks up, his voice strong with his northern accent, « I wish our meetings could have been in better circumstances. »

« The feeling is mutual, my lord. » Jon answers, and he sees Ned Stark's eyes fleeting to him, and Jon feels scrutinized, just like he had at his wedding, when Lord Stark's eyes had glanced at him and seemed to see through his soul.

« Either way, we're glad you are here. » Lord Stark continues. « We're glad the Sultan listened and answered. »

« He had to. » This time it's Rhaegar that speaks. « The Sultan doesn't want to see Andrinople fall. »

« Neither do we, my lord. » Lord Stark admit. « Let's ride together back to the castle while your men advance further. »

Jon and Rhaegar both bows in agreement, and the other generals as well, and Jon kicks his heels into his horse's side to move him forward. He settles between Robb and Arya Stark, while Rhaegar goes to Ned's side.

« So how is my sister ? » Robb Stark asks as soon as Jon is within his earshot.Yes, the Stark really don't waste time in formalities, Jon almost wants to cry at how much it reminds him of Sansa, and one look at Robb, he thinks he just might. The reddish brown hair and the piercing blue eyes, he looks so much like Sansa, it hurts and Jon adverts his eyes quickly, blinking the tears away.

« My hopes is that she's doing fine back in Constantinople. » Jon answers. « I had hoped to write to her when we arrive at the castle. »

« Oh, you're in love already ? » Arya teases, a smile playing on her lips.

« Arya ! » Robb snaps, and Arya chuckles and Jon doesn't answer because there's no point denying the truth after all, and it feels easy somehow, easy to laugh a little too, to be here around her siblings and Jon feels closer to his wife then.

« She misses you all. A lot. » He says once Arya's laugh dies down.

The Stark siblings stay quiet for a moment, before Robb speaks again. « We miss her too. »

« Maybe, when the battle is over, you will the the ones visiting us. » Jon says trying to lighten the mood. « I know she'll like that. »

« The battle isn't won yet, Targaryen. » Arya says. « Let's survive first and then think about the future. »

He wants to agree, he wants to tell her she's right, but he has made a promise. He needs to survive, he needs to go back to Sansa, hold her again, kiss her again, love her again, he needs to , he has to. He can't die far away from her.

  
  


The castle is stern and everywhere he looks is grey, but it's Sansa's home and when Robb shows him her old bedroom, where Jon will be staying – he had protested, said he'll be fine sleeping in a tent at the camp alongside his men, but Catelyn Stark had insisted and here he is – he does shed a tear. He can almost feel her fragrance if he inhales deep enough. He walks further into the room, and lets his fingers trace over the wooden desk by the window. There's an ink pot and a quill and some fresh flowers sit by a few pieces of parchment. A couple of books are here too, and by the title, Jon knows it can't be what Sansa would like to read. It's all neatly organized, and there's only a small layer of dust and Jon wonders who keeps it that way.

« I usually come here in the evening, and read but you don't have to worry. I won't bother you with my presence while you're here. » Robb says in his back.

Jon turns to him, and he recognizes the sad look on his brother in law's face, and Jon's heart aches for him. He knows the feeling of missing Sansa all too well, and he sees it on Robb's face as he looks around the room.

« You can come here whenever you want. » Jon tries to give Robb as much comfort as he can. « I can see I'm not the only one missing her. »

Robb offers him a smile, but Jon can tell he's on the verge of crying too. « I guess that's what happens when your best friend leaves. »

« I am going to have to take your word up for it. I'm afraid I don't have anyone I can call a best friend. » Jon doesn't know why he's saying all of this, maybe it's the air of trust, of peace, of comfort he feels in the room, maybe it's the way he can see his pain reflected in Robb's blue eyes, maybe it's the memory of Sansa present in this room pushing him to be honest.

« That's... extremely sad. » Robb admits, and he takes a few steps further in the room. « You might not be a Stark, but you're married to my sister, and.. » Robb almost breaks then and Jon doesn't know if he should help him, hold him for a few moments while he gains his composure, but the man closes his eyes with force, only to re-open them a second later, dry and strong, and Jon sees where Sansa gets the strength. « If you miss her and have gained her affection, then it can only mean you're a good man. You're welcome here, Jon. You really are. We're family. »

Jon is moved by his words and he lets a tear fall freely. « Thank you, Robb. » He quickly wipes his cheek and stands taller. « I hope I'll live up to the bravery that is associated with your family name. »

He extends his arm, and Robb eyes it for a second before grabbing it and he pulls Jon into a bone crushing hug and Jon lets him, he's not sure who needs it more then, him or Robb, but he answers to the tight embrace with as much strength as he can, without breaking down.

  
  


The plan is simple. The element of surprise should do the trick , and Jon can only listen as Ned Stark stands at the head of the table, a map of the area spread out in front of them all while he explains the plan to the generals. Jon listens and makes a mental note of everything, every word, every detail needing to be committed to memory. They've been here a week and so far, Mehmed's men haven't made a move on them, but the Starks know, it won't last, it's been only a week yes, but Jon can feel the tension in the air. Everyday feels like they're waiting for their death, waiting to see the colors of the enemy breaking on the horizon, crossing the border, ready to bring destruction upon death. But they're ready, they're more than ready. So that's why Ned Stark decides to bring the battle to them. And the plan is simple, ride slowly then as you get closer to their camp, ride faster and let hell rain on the enemy.

That's how he finds himself at night, on the back of his horse, alongside Rhaegar and Robb about to ride into battle. Arya is here too, on a black horse, and Jon almost smiles when he remembers the little tantrum she had thrown when her father had told her she wasn't going to be fighting, and he had finally given up when she said that she was the best archer and was small and quick and they were stupid if they didn't have her on the battlefield. Jon had found it hilarious, but he supposes stubborness is something all Starks possess.

They've crossed the border an hour ago, and now they're just waiting, Jon is not sure what exactly, maybe to be seen, to be heard, but they've moved as quiet as wolves. On the corner of his eyes, he watches Ned Stark move forward and Jon does too, moving his reins slightly to command his horse, and the riders slowly make their way across the land. Slowly, then with a swift clack of the leather, Ned Stark's horse starts galloping and the men follow. The ground roars with the sound of hooves hammering faster and faster, and Jon feels the familiar thrill of battle growing inside him and as they reach the enemy's camp, Jon is not sure what's louder, the cry of the men behind him or his own heartbeat.

~~ 

Nine Months. Nine months without a single word from Jon, or her family, and Sansa has put up a strong front the best she can, but the days pass and it's getting harder and harder to be strong everyday. She can see the looks of the ladies and lords of the court, the pity in their eyes, and she barely can take it anymore. The daily taunts of Daenerys and Viserys, and the pitiful looks she gets everyday is pushing her to isolate herself from everyone. She's by the docks one evening, looking at the sun rising, her thoughts going to Jon and her family. Are they okay ? Have they made progress ? They probably haven't, otherwise Jon would be back wouldn't he ? Why is no one telling her anything ? Why is she being kept in the dark ? She picks up a rock and throws it far in the water, but her frustration stays regardless.

«Lady Sansa. »

She jumps a little at the sudden interruption. She turns and finds a man standing a few feet away from her. He seems tired, exhausted, and his clothes are dirty, and she'll later learn it's because he rode day and night to Constantinople. She studies warily, and quickly looks at him to see if he's carried any weapon ; a sword, secured at his waist and he doesn't seem to be dangerous, but who knows. She's learned appearances can be deceiving during her time in court.

« My apologies, my lady, I didn't want to frighten you. » The man says. « My name is Podrick Payne, I was sent by your father, Lord Eddard Stark. »

« Why ? » She asks, still not moving. Why is this man here ? She tries to look for any sign of her home's sigil, but can't find any.

« Your father and Lord Targaryen have been trying to write to you for months my lady. But we had no answer, so... you have no idea how glad I am to see you alive and well, my lady. »

« They... I didn't receive any letter. » Sansa says, trying to keep her voice from breaking.

« We figured as much my lady. » Podrick explains. « That's why I am here. My lady... Your brother Robb is missing. He's been captured by the enemy and each request we sent hasn't been answered. My lady... we need your help. »

Sansa looks at him and lets his words reach her. Robb.. Her Robb, her best friend.. captured ?

« I don't understand, sir, I am.. I don't know what you're expecting of me. » She's shaking, her whole body is shaking, she's trembling.

« Your father has sent me so you could ask the Sultan for help, my lady. » Podrick explains. « Each letter has met no answer, so... maybe you can speak with the sultan yourself and.. »

Suddenly, Sansa understands. The letters. Why she never got a letter from her family in months. Why the sultan hasn't received any of her family's request. It all becomes clear in her head, and she steps closer to Podrick.

« Who else knows you're here, Podrick ? » She asks.

« No one, my lady. » He answers quickly. « I haven't been to court or.. »

« Good. » She says. « We leave tonight. »

  
  
  


The ride to Winterfell is shorter but rougher than she remembers. She insists with Podrick that she can ride all day and night but when they spot the castle after three days of riding and only stopping for food and rest, she sighs with a deep relief that she feels sipping through all her bones.

« Winterfell.. » She lets it out, the name of her home tasting like love on her lips.

« You're home, my lady. »

She doesn't answer, only lets out a long breath and smile, before they kick their horses into motion again. If Sansa rides a little faster ahead than Podrick, then she tells herself it's only because she's happy, it's not because she can feel the fresher air of the north surrounding her, filling her with a feeling she had forgotten she had a long time ago. Soon enough, they're standing in front of the gates, and Sansa fidgets on her horse while Podrick announces them. The massive wooden doors open and Sansa advances first. The courtyard is full of people, workers of the castle and she's surprised to recognize many familiar faces, and her heart swells as she looks upon them. A stable boy appears, followed by Jory, her father's most trusted advisor and friend, whom Sansa grew up calling Uncle. The stable boy helps her descend from her horse, and she embraces Jory in a tight hug once she's on the ground.

« You've grown little rose ! » Jory whispers in her hair as he embraces her. He steps away and gives her a good once over. « You've grown so much ! » There are tears in his eyes and Sansa is sure they match her own. « Come, your parents will be ecstatic to see you ! »

She nods eagerly and she follows him and Podrick into the castle. The corridors are the same, the fragrance is the same, and she smiles as she follows the two men further down. They arrive in the Great Hall, and Sansa stops in her tracks when she sees them. Her father. Her mother. Arya. The three of them turn at the sounds of footsteps, and Sansa feels the tears arriving again. During her time in Constantinople, she had imagined what it would be like to see her family again. She had imagined what she would say, what she would wear, what they would wear, her parents in their cloaks and a leather outfit for her father and a beautiful gown for her mother. Arya would wear one of those tunic tucked in pants that she liked to wear. But now, as she's standing there, looking at them, her family, her wonderful family, none of her dreams can compare to this. She leaps into their arms, and they all catch her, and for a minute, or an hour she doesn't know, she's surrounded by them, their fragrances, it's just like she remembers. Leather and snow and wood. She parts from them but doesn't let her hands fall from them, and her mother, lady Catelyn, grabs her face with her both hands and looks at her daughter more closely.

« My sweet little girl.. » Catelyn says. « My sweet, sweet little girl.. » It's all her mother can say before she breaks down in her daughter's arms. Sansa catches her this time, and soon enough, she's joined by her father and sister. And even though she's more than happy to be around them, through her sobs, she manages to ask.

« Where's Jon ? » Silence fills the air around them, she looks at her sister who adverts her eyes, then her father. « Father, where's Jon ? »

« Let's talk in private. » He says and Sansa is filled with anguish hearing her father's tone, but she follows them regardless.

  
  


Sansa can't believe it. No matter how many times she tries to let her father's words make sense, they don't and only Arya's hands in hers ground her to this moment, to this room, otherwise she would have fainted a while ago, as soon as she had heard her father's words.

_ Rhaegar died two months ago. _

_ We've managed to push the armies back across the border. _

_ Robb has been taken a week ago. _

_ Jon has left in the night, without a word to us. The man who saw him said he rode towards Mehmed's camp outside the border. _

A rescue mission, her mother said.  _ A suicide mission _ , Sansa thinks. She can't believe it, but then again, Jon had promised to defend her home, and in truth, her home had meant the people in it too. But she had never thought he would go and risk his life for her brother. Arya does let her know that Robb and Jon have grown closer in the last few months, and are often seen with each other, forming a bit of an inseparable pair.

« I would hang out with them more if they weren't so disgustingly boring to spar with. » Arya says, rolling her eyes. « I swear Sansa, I am better than them with a sword, and I am a head smaller ! »

Sansa laughs because it is funny, and she would like to see it one day, and because she knows Arya is doing this to cheer her up. So she doesn't think about Robb and Jon possibly meeting their downfall on the other side of the border. It's Arya who guides her to her bedroom, and as it turns out Jon's bedroom in the last nine months.

« Every day where we weren't fighting, we could find him at the desk, writing you a letter. » Arya says when Sansa walks closer to the window. « I hope he comes back soon. He's missed you a lot. »

Sansa turns to her sister. « I thought he had forgotten me. His sister .. she kept saying he probably found another woman and made her his, and.. » Sansa hates that she even believed Daenerys for a second.

« He hasn't looked at anyone else while he was here, I can assure you as much. » Arya says, and she makes sure that Sansa hears the honesty in her voice. « Well, he's looked very fondly at Robb a few times but probably because you two look so much alike. »

Sansa smiles at that, and she's suddenly overwhelmed by the need to hug Arya, which she does, and her little sister lets her gladly, meeting with an equally fierce hold. Later that night, after supper, all the Stark children settle in Sansa's bed, and Bran and Rickon tells Sansa everything she's missed in the time she's been away, updating her on the gossip around the castle, but still making sure to stay away from the topic of the battle, Sansa notices but doesn't comment it, half thankful for it. She has missed them so much, and this feels so nice, lying here with her siblings, the other parts of her, and she doesn't want to break this bubble of peace and love with the questions burning her tongue. So she lets herself listen to them, focusing on Bran's voice as he tells her of how this girl Meera seems to like him, and how he's not sure if he likes her back, focusing on Rickon's curls tickling her neck, of Arya's hand holding hers tightly, and not how her pillow smells like Jon, and how she can feel the indentation his body left in her bed. No, not those, she can't let herself feel those. 

Sansa wakes up to a loud knock on her door. It takes her a moment but when she opens her eyes, the first thing she hears is her door flying open, and her mother barging in. At the sight of her distressed look, Sansa thinks they're under attack, but then Catelyn smiles and Sansa is confused. Rickon is the second one to wake up, next to her.

« Mother ? What's happening ? »

« Robb.. Jon.. You need to .. »

At the sound of the name of the two men, Sansa jumps off of the bed, apologising quickly for hitting a barely awake Bran but she can't wait. She runs out of her room, and down the corridor to the courtyard where she hears voices and agitation, and she's met with cold morning air, a thin layer of snow covering the ground, but she doesn't care for she's met with an awful sight as she stands there in the dirty courtyard. Jon is on a horse, covered in blood and dirt and by the look of it, wounded, and in front of him, thrown sideway on the horse, the body of her brother Robb , looking equally as wounded and hurt and all oxygen has left Sansa's body at the sight. She stands there, unable to move, and for a second, she thinks she's dreaming, having a nightmare, that she's still in bed, between Bran and Rickon, and that she'll wake up to a better sight than this. But then Jon's eyes finds hers and she finds air again and she can taste snowflakes on her lips and the grey eyes she dreamed of so often are stuck on her and she can finally breathe. Finally.

« Sansa.. » She hears him speak, before he falls from his horse, unconscious. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooooooo, how was that???  
> Chat with me on tumblr @shesgotherown or on twitter @rivercorenswet !! I promise I am nice, and I love to talk so :) feel free to come and love jonsa with me !!


	4. Ancient Turkey - 1449 - Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! SECOND PART OF THIS INSTALLMENT ! I hope you guys enjoy it, this chapter is my baby, I really love it and hope you guys do as well!  
> I have no idea when the next chapter will be, I am starting work next week, and don't know my schedule yet, I will try and squeeze in writing time whenever I can , but please be patient with me !  
> Anyway, happy reading, do let me know how you liked the final part of this chapter!

Blood. So much blood. Sansa stays in the room while they clean them, even when Maester Luwin tells her to leave, that she shouldn't see this , but then Jeyne, Robb's wife, enters the room too and she breaks down at the sight of Robb, and Sansa can't blame her, she can barely recognise her brother under the dirt and the blood. Blood. So much blood. Sansa moves and puts her arms around Jeyne's frame to hold her up and they stay in a corner of the room, while the maesters and his two apprentices run around and clean both of the men's bodies. They're both alive. Sansa knows, Robb's eyes are open and he's mumbling things and Sansa sees how Jeyne is doing everything she can not to go over, and hold his hand ; she knows, because Sansa is doing the same. It takes everything in her to not push Maester Luwin away and hold Jon, but Sansa knows she wouldn't be of any use truly, and she'd rather let him do it. She knows he's capable, he's the one who put salves on her bruises and cuts when she was a kid. He's the one who brought her into this world after all, brought all the Stark children into this world, if someone can save Robb and Jon, it's him.

After a while, Luwin turns to Sansa and Jeyne. « My ladies, I believe you two are good with your needles. If you feel up to it, maybe you can assist us in stitching the wounds. »

The two women look at eachother and they move quickly to assist Luwin and his apprentices. Luwin tells them how to stitch properly, shows them how and both Sansa and Jeyne move with care and precision, and Sansa tries to only think about that, the task in front of her. She doesn't think about the blood staining her fingertips as she brings the skin together, she doesn't think about his closed eyes, she doesn't think about the low rise of his chest under her fingers, she doesn't think about her name on his lips. No, she focuses on the needle and thread in front of her. There are so many wounds, so much of his skin pulled apart, her Jon, her beautiful Jon. When she's done, and she braces herself to look over at her brother and Jeyne, and she sees the tears streaming down Jeyne's face in silence as she stitches her husband up. Jeyne's hands are steady though, even through the tears, her eyes are sharp and her movements precise. Sansa sees Robb's fingers moving to brush over Jeyne's sleeve. Jeyne whispers soft words to Robb, and Sansa has to leave then, she can't stay in here any longer.

  
  


Sansa is filled with rage, she's burning with madness and fury and she knows she must look crazy, insane when she enters her parents' study. They're both here, so is Jory and Arya, but it doesn't stop Sansa from talking.

« Take me to their camp. » She says, and she doesn't miss the confusion on all of their faces, but she doesn't care. « Take me to their camp so I can draw a sword through the throat of those who hurt them. » her voice doesn't shake when she says this, and she's almost surprised, but not really. She wonders where the strength comes from. _From Winterfell, I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell_.

« Sansa.. » Arya starts, taking a step forward.

« I want them dead, Arya ! » She exclaims and she's crying then. « Have you seen them ? Have you seen Robb ? And Jon... I want them dead, Arya. I will go there myself if I have to, I want them dead, I want them dead ! »

It's Arya that comes to hold her as she falls down, sobbing uncontrollably, but she can barely feel her sister's arms around her, nor she can tell when her father comes to hold her too. All she knows is she stains their tunics for a long time, unable to stop.

~~

_Sansa... Sansa ... Sansa ..._

He sees her red hair, her blue eyes, the snow melting in her hair. A vision. A dream of spring. A hope of a life he thought gone.

_Sansa... Sansa … Sansa …_

His skin hurts. It hurts and it hurts and it's all he can feel. He wants to scream and cry and sob but his throat is dry and he can taste blood on his tongue. There's something pulling at his chest and his side, and his calf too, and he wants to yell _stop ! stop, it hurts, please, stop , please, please, please..._

_Sansa … Sansa … Sansa..._

Something is brushing his hair, it's a gentle tug and he hears himself moan, indulging in the comfort of the touch. It's familiar, the warmth known to his body, but he's warm all over. There's something on him, covering him, because it's not just his hair, his head, his whole body is warm, his left side is the warmest though, and he wants to open his eyes, just so he can bring it closer but they're so heavy, he's not strong enough, not strong..

_Sansa... Sansa... Sansa..._

He's wet. There's something wet in his mouth. He feels wood against his lips and then there's water running down his throat and he wants to speak, say thank you, but he's so weak, his whole body hurts. But he's thankful, so thankful. When he wakes up, he'll say it, when he wakes up...

_Sansa... Sansa... Sansa...._

  
  


His first coherent thought is he's hungry. He feels weak, his whole body feels like cotton, and it takes all in him to open his eyes. Someone is singing. He blinks slowly, and takes in the surroundings. He's in Sansa's room, in Sansa's bed, and he's covered by a fur blanket. There's a fire cracking in the hearth, but as he turns his head, it's Sansa he notices first. She's sitting in a chair, a piece of fabric in her hand, pulling at the thread, humming softly under her breath. Her hair is loose, soft waves falling on her chest, but he sees the dark circles under her eyes, the red tinted skin around them.

As if she can feel him, she looks up, and when she sees him awake, she drops the fabric on the ground and jumps to run to the bed. She kneels at the side of the bed, and _praise Allah_ , he's so happy.

« Oh God, thank you, you're awake ! » Sansa exclaims and she takes his hands and brings it to her lips, peppering it with kisses. Jon finds the strength to smile, because maybe it wasn't a dream, maybe she was actually there when he rode back from the camp. But … Why is she here ? How did she get here ? He knows Podrick went to get help from the Sultan but..

« How did you get here ? » His voice is hoarse, and he feels even worse, the effort taking a lot out of him.

« Podrick came to Constantinople, and … He said that you all wrote to get help from the Sultan, but .. Jon.. No letter came through. »

The words aren't registered immediately in Jon's brain, it's still mushy and he's tired and the information doesn't reach him as fast as it could. But something holds his attention.

« No letter.. You didn't get mine ? » He thinks about all the mornings he spent writing to her, hoping, begging for an answer.

She looks at him and tears fill her eyes, and she looks down not letting him see the first tear fall. « You really wrote to me ? » He sighs because, of course, of course he wrote to her, put his heart and feelings on paper for her to read. He has missed her so much in the last nine months, these letters – and the answers he waited for but that never came – were the only thing keeping him sane.

« I don't understand.. » He whispers, and he's so tired. “You're really here.. This isn't a dream?”

« I am here, Jon. I did say I would bring you back myself, didn't I? But we'll talk later, you need to rest. » Sansa says and she leans up to kiss his forehead. « Do you want me to bring you some food ? You should have water and -» She moves to get up but Jon speaks first.

« Just stay. » He grabs her hand, and she kneels again. « Please, I … I missed you. »

Her eyes soften visibly and she gives him a soft kiss on the lips and he hates that his body is not strong enough to respond fully, but she doesn't seem to care. She goes to bring her chair closer to the bed, grabbing a book on her desk before sitting down.

« Arya has lent me a few of her books, I hope you don't mind women being the heroes of the story. » She says as she opens the book.

« Not at all. » He smiles and he focuses on her and her voice and soon enough, he's falling asleep to the melodic sound of Sansa's voice, happiness filling his bones once again.

  
  


It takes him a week to be able to sit up properly. It hurts, and he winces if he sits up too long because of the stitches but most of all, he's okay. He's seen Robb, who's walking, - he woke up two weeks before Jon, but Jon sees him and he remembers his bloodied face, tied up to a pole, and he thinks about the ride back, the men he had to fight, the men he had to kill, the men who shot arrows at him, the blood stinging his reins as he rode back, Robb's body in front of him. He'd do it all again, over and over, if he meant he can still see Robb's face grinning at him. Robb has to use a cane, but he's walking and Jon doubts he'll be any different when he manages to walk. Maester Luwin says he should take him another week to be able to stand up properly, without wincing. Jon hopes he is right, because, lying down is getting him restless. But Sansa is here to keep him company, and sometimes Arya comes too, but it's mostly to push Sansa out of the room and tell her to leave and get some fresh air. Sansa always insists that there is air inside, to which Arya rolls her eyes and still pushes her sister out of the room,and sometimes she’ll get from Rickon who likes to ask for Sansa’s attention whenever he can and Sansa obliges most of the time, but it's never without a protest and always with a kiss to Jon's lips.

« Gyeurk, you guys are disgusting. » Arya scoffs when Sansa is out. « I don't know how you two don't get tired of each other, spending all your time in here. »

Jon chuckles, because truly, he doesn't know how they do it, all he knows is that even though she's just left and it's only been two minutes, he already misses her. But he knows when she comes back, her kisses will only be sweeter, and in the meantime he has her lingering scent on the pillow to remember her by.

«It's because you don't have someone yet. » Jon says. « When you find someone you can love and trust completely, you'll understand. »

Arya glances at him and Jon sees something in her eyes and .. _oh_ . « Wait. You have someone ? » When Arya doesn't answer, only sits down at the desk, playing with the frame of a book, Jon knows. « _Mashallah_ , you do have someone ! »

Arya rolls her eyes. « Oh please, shut up. It's not that big of a deal ! »

« Well, it kind of is. » Jon tries to sit up so he can be at an eye level with the young girl. They've gotten closer in all those months fighting next to each other, had spared together more often than not, they're close, an easy relationship had grown between them and sometimes he wishes she was his real sister – and he still remembers the tears in her eyes when he had asked her to let him do it, let him be the one to go and rescue Robb, not her, that she should stay here, that her family didn't need to lose another Stark and she had cried then and begged him to get her brother back ; no one knew about this, and no one ever shall. « Is it.. something mutual ? Does he love you back ? »

« Jon, please. If I wanted to talk about this with someone, I would go to Sansa. » Arya snaps, and opens the book, pretending to read it but Jon sees she isn't.

« And yet, you are here. » No answer. « Arya, what is it ? »

For a long time, she doesn't speak and Jon thinks she isn't going to answer at all, but then she speaks again and it's not what he expected. « How did it feel leaving Sansa ? » She doesn't meet his eyes, but Jon would rather she doesn't, otherwise she would see the pain in them, the memories written all over his face. He could lie, he guesses he could, but he doesn't want to lie to her, not to Arya, not to the little sister he wishes he had.

« Like death. » He answers. «Like my heart was ripped out of my chest. Like... », he shakes remembering it all, the tears streaming down her face, the softness of her skin in his, « like I had done it before and somehow never made it back to her.. I know it's crazy and impossible, but as I rode to meet the men, I had this feeling that this wasn't the first time I was leaving her, and that the other times.. I hadn't made it back to her at all, or not in time and.. it scared me. Entirely. It still does. »

Arya is looking at him now, and he sees a tear at the corner of her eyes, those light grey eyes that were like his, and he sees that she's struggling with something. « But when I rode back, and I saw her again.. it felt like coming up for air after almost drowning. Like everything in the world mattered before until this very moment. » He says, with a smile now, and she still doesn't speak, so he tries again. « Is that how you feel with your person ? »

She sniffles slightly and closes the book. « I just don't know if I can make someone feel all of that because of me. » She rises from her chair and Jon wishes he could leave this bed so he could hug her. « I mean... I don't want to feel all of this. I didn't ask for it. It's .. awful and I don't want it, Jon ! I don't want it ! »

« Arya, come here.. » And she does, and there are tears in her eyes and she sits on the side of the bed, near him, and he grabs her hands in his in a tight grip. « Love... it's tough. It can't be planned and it's never going to be easy. But I think as long as you can be honest with the person you love, nothing else matters. »

Arya seems to ponder over his words, and she nods, wiping her nose a little. « I'm sorry I cried. »

« It's okay. You had to let it out with somebody. I am glad you felt safe enough to let it out with me. » Jon smiles and he ruffles her hair, like he knows she hates it, and she moves away from his hand but there's still a fond smile on her lips. « Now, please, tell me all about the brave young man who captured the heart of our little fighter. »

Arya smiles and Jon listens as she tells him, and soon he's smiling too, and when Sansa comes back, with a bouquet of winter roses in her hands, and a basket of fruits, she finds them giggling and chuckling and she raises an eyebrow at them, silently questioning Jon, who only shakes his head. It's not his place to tell, after all.

  
  


~~

The air is cold when they step out in the courtyard. She's holding onto Jon's arms so he can lean on her as well, it's his first real steps outside of his room ; it's been a month since he's woken up, a week since his wounds have fully closed, and today, he has asked if they could walk around the castle a little, which Sansa had agreed to. A little bit of fresh air wouldn't do him any harm and Maester Luwin had given his approval so now there they are, walking into Winterfell's courtyard, and Sansa feels Jon take a deep breath and exhales loudly as a smile breaks on his face.

« You're happy. » She states.

« I am. » He agrees, clutching her gloved hand in his. The snow is still falling and there's not a lot of people outside but they smile as they pass the few workers bracing the cold air.

« You're not too cold ? » Sansa asks.

« No, the cold doesn't bother me. » He says, but still, she brings the fur cloak tighter around his shoulders and he kisses her temple. They walk close to each other, mainly to share warmth, but Sansa likes having him this close. Sansa leads the way, to the town's chapel, where Jon asked her to go. She had been surprised when he had told her he had visited it a few times during his stay here, and a small part of her wonders what he prayed for.

The chapel is empty, and Sansa understands, it's freezing, it's late December after all, people wouldn't want to stay outside if they don't have to, but she's surprised to find the priest absent as well. She and Jon walk towards the altar and Sansa leaves him to sit on the first bench so she can go and light the candles. She lights nine candles, one for each member of her family, one for Rhaegar and one for Jon. As she lights each of them, she sends out a small prayer, a thank you to the Lord, so he knows she's grateful that the ones she loves are safe, and that she prays Rhaegar is in a better place now. Even if he wasn't a preacher of her faith, she still prays for him, prays that his soul found solace. Once they're all lit, she walks back to Jon and his hand immediately find hers and she smiles. She can't help it these days, but she is happy. He's alive and well, her brother is alive and well, her whole family is ; they all love Jon, adore him really, and for the last three days, he's been able to join them all for supper and Sansa had never been happier as when she saw her father laughing loudly at one of Jon's stories. It had filled her heart with joy, and it is still the case today.

She drops her head on his shoulders and sighs with fondness. « You know, I came here before our wedding. I screamed at god, asking him why he was taking me away from my home, why he was being so cruel. I used to come here every day when I was a girl, pray to be happy and find a prince to love and marry. When mother and father came with the match... Gosh, I hated them so much. I hated God for it. » She sighs again, raising her head and Jon turns to look at her, his grey eyes glistening in the candle light. « But then, I met you. And you really turned everything around for me. I had never felt that many things before I met you. You brought so much into my life, Jon. I'm never going to stop being thankful for it.” 

« Sansa.. » Jon whispers her name and it feels like the first time, as it ignites a spark inside her, and she's not cold anymore, and when he brings his lips to hers, she's burning, set aflame, and she'll burn on his lips if it means she can stay there. 

They part for air, much to Sansa's dismay, and she chases his lips and Jon chuckles at her eagerness. « We're in a chapel, Sansa. » He lightly scolds her but his hands are on her waist, pulling her closer to him, and soon enough, he's pulling her on top of him. She knows it's wrong, they shouldn't be doing this, not now, not when Jon is not entirely recovered, not here, in this sacred place where no such things should happen ; but she can't help it when her hips rock against his and he gasps in her mouth, and she draws his bottom lip in her teeth. It's true, she had never felt all of these before she met Jon. True love, lust, desire, passion.. She couldn't have known what they were if they had stared her in the face. But now, as she grinds into him, the friction of the clothes stuck between them making everything more intense, but she can still feel Jon, she can still feel him, his member pushing between her legs, even through his breeches. One of his hands is on her lower back, pushing her harder against him. It's not their usual rhythm, the slow pace they like to take, and one part of her misses it, how she can feel everything thanks to the slowness of it, but here, now, they don't have time to be slow, and they don't want to. She knows it when Jon takes her mouth, desperately, violently, like she's air and he's dying, and she loves him, so much, she prays that he never leaves her again. She prays they always stay this close, she prays his skin is always an inch or less away, only then can she be happy.

Jon finishes first and Sansa follows shortly and they hide their laughs into each other's neck. Jon brings Sansa up for a soft kiss, and she lets him, he's warm and she thinks she's never going to get over it, his warmth.

« Did we really just.. » Jon doesn't finish his sentence but she knows what he means.

«We just did, yes.. » She nods and lets out a giggle as she brushes the curls away from his face. His hair is longer than she has ever seen it, but she doesn't mind – more of it for her to tug. She looks at him for a long moment, her eyes roaming over his face, taking it all in.

« I can hear you thinking. » Jon says. « What is it ? »

« I'm sorry about your brother. » She says out of the blue. She doesn't know where the thought comes from, but she realizes they still haven't talked about it. « I know how you two were close. »

Jon sighs and lets his head fall against her chest, she's still straddling him, but he doesn't make a move to shift their position, so she doesn't either. « I wish I could've saved him. » Jon whispers and she feels his breath against her skin. « His body was found in the morning after the battle. He was.. He was barely recognizable, Sans.. He didn't deserve to die like this. »

Sansa drops a kiss to the top of his head and brushes her fingers through his hair. « I'm so sorry, Jon. I really, really am. » _But better him than you_. She feels bad for thinking this, she feels bad because Rhaegar didn't deserve to die, not like this, but she'd rather have Rhaegar dead than Jon, or Robb or Arya. But still, she feels Jon's pain as his head stays on her chest, she feels his tears soaking her tunic but doesn't say anything, just lets him cry in her arms.

  
  


When they leave the chapel, the sun has set already and the courtyard is basking in the moonlight, the sky free of clouds for once. Sansa looks up and lets the cold night air hit her and she points at the sky.

« Look, the moon ! » She sounds like a child in this instant, but she feels giddy and better than ever. Jon and her had prayed a little after he had let out his tears in the safety of her embrace and she had explained to him the story of Jesus Christ and how he came to die and be reborn. Jon had listened intently and then shared the story of the prophet Muhammed and she had felt so close to him then, understanding more of his faith and why he connects with it so much.

« Let's go someday. » Jon answers, and she turns to him, doubtful.

« We can't, Jon. That's impossible. » She says and he raises an eyebrow.

« Well.. there are people trying to prove that our world is not actually flat, so who knows what's possible or not. »

« Do you believe them ? » She asks and for a second, she considers the idea. The world.. Not flat ?

« I don't know. I think there's not enough proof yet for us to divert from what we know. » Jon explains. « People like to talk and create theories all the time. But if we don't have proof, then these are just empty words, and we can't build a coherent society on empty words. »

Sansa smiles and Jon furrows his eyebrows. « What ? »

« You're so eloquent. » Sansa answers. « My husband is so eloquent. I've married the most clever man of the country ! » She exclaims and she starts to spin around him, but Jon keeps his hand in hers so she's spinning him too, and god, she feels like she's ten and had too much sugar.

« Only the country ? » Jon teases, a grin breaking on his lips.

« Well, I haven't been anywhere else, really. » Sansa answers still spinning. « What if you're actually really stupid in other parts of the world ? »

Jon's laugh breaks the quiet of the courtyard and it fills Sansa with a new-found joy. Is she ever going to be as happy as now ? Jon pulls her arm, bringing her closer to him. He brushes the few curls that came on her face and kisses the top of her nose. « I'll take you everywhere you want to go. I'll take you to France so we can ride through the countryside and see the french cities. I'll take you to England and Italy and we'll visit all the famous places. I'll take you to the British colonies in the east, and we'll taste every dish they have. I can't wait to show you the world, Sansa. »

« And I can't wait to see it with you. » She says. And she means it, even if in the end they won't, but in that moment, she means it, she'll go everywhere he'll go, she'll follow him anywhere, and in the end, she will.

They make their way back inside eventually, and they find Ned Stark waiting for them in the Great Hall. Upon their arrival, Lord Stark looks at them suspiciously and Sansa blushes because she's not sure she wants her father to find out what happened in the chapel. She's thankful when he shakes his head, a light smile. He has something in his hand and Sansa wonders what it is.

« We thought you two had frozen in the chapel. » Ned says and Sansa blushes even more, and can't think of anything to save face but thankfully Jon has a working brain.

« We got distracted and took a walk around the castle to enjoy the fresh air. » Jon lies easily. « It's more than welcome after all my days spent in bed, sir. »

Ned nods and continues. « You're going to get more than your fair share of fresh air soon, I believe. » With this, he extends the piece of parchment to Jon who takes it. « From the Sultan. »

Sansa watches as Jon unrolls the piece and his eyes scan over the words. « He wants me back in Constantinople as soon as possible. »

« Why ? Has something happened ? » Sansa questions, and suddenly she remembers the conversation between Daenerys and Viserys about hurting the Sultan, and she wonders if the sultan himself is aware of their scheme.

« He doesn't say here, but I know Murad enough to know he wouldn't ask me back in the middle of war if it wasn't important. » Jon answers and Sansa can see the way his jaw clench as he reads further. « I .. I don't know how I am going to face him after we failed so many times.. »

Sansa is about to comfort him, but her father beats her to it. Ned Stark crosses the space between them and puts his hand on Jon's shoulder. Jon's raises his eyes to meet the older man's and Sansa thinks he looks younger then, like a kid desperately trying to be good.

« Son, I've seen you fight. You're brave, you're strong. You led your men into a battle they had no idea they were going to fight in and you've done that with a force I hadn't seen in any men in a long, long time. Don't think that because some of them died, or because the enemy isn't dead and gone that you've failed. As long as you're alive and you can protect your home, as long as you can fight and stand, you have not failed. »

Sansa can see in her father's eyes the look, the look he gives all of his children when they need reassurance, and Sansa's heart swells in her chest when she sees it. She looks at Jon and she sees the tears in his eyes, and she clutches his hands in hers and hopes that it grounds him so he can stay strong.

«You may not have my blood, but you're my daughter's husband. The way you fought for our home, the way you fought to get me my son back, that makes you a Stark, that makes you as much as a wolf as any of us. You're a part of the pack now. Remember that, son. »

Jon nods and he clears his throat. « Thank you, sir. »

Later, as they lay in bed after supper, and Sansa is pressed to Jon's side under the covers, she asks him what she's been dying to know ever since he saw the letter. « Are you okay ? »

« I don't know. » He's playing with a curl of red hair on her shoulder. « I don't know if I want to go back. I don't know if I'll be able to face it all without Rhaegar. He was always the best with the politics, and now that he's .. I can't even imagine the things Dany or Viserys told Murad while we were away. They always had their own agenda, and now without Rhaegar to stop it.. »

« Do you think they'll do something ? » Sansa asks. « They didn't do anything while you two were away.. »

« That doesn't mean they're not plotting anything. » Jon sighs. « The conversation you heard still haunts me, and now that the only person who was capable of stopping them is dead.. »

Something crosses Jon's face and it worries Sansa, for how silent he suddenly is. « Jon ? What is it ? »

He doesn't answer right away, only pinches the bridge of his nose, and shakes his head. « Nothing. » He kisses the top of her head and brings her closer. « Let's go to bed. »

She doesn't retort but she feels his tense muscles around her and she keeps seeing the shadow of a thought crossing over his face, but she stays quiet. She stays quiet, because she's afraid that if he tells her, she'll find out it's the same one she has.

She’s rolling a dough when she catches sight of her little brother’s red hair appearing in the door frame; she’s making sweet flavoured breads for the soldiers in the camp outside of the castle’s walls. The cook has gladly let her use the kitchen for a few hours, she’s making the last batch and nearing the end of the kneading part when she notices Rickon. Sometimes, Sansa looks at him and she is suddenly reminded that he’s not a baby anymore. He’s almost as tall as her despite being only twelve, and he looks so much like their mother, like Robb, his hair being as curly and red as Robb’s and Sansa smiles when he enters. 

“There’s some bread done if you want a taste.” Sansa tells him, nodding towards a batch that’s already been done for some time. Rickon nods quietly and takes one but doesn’t bite in it. He looks tense, her little brother, his shoulders are stiff and she notices the way his fingers play with the little bread, how his eyes stare at it but don’t seem to see it. “Are you alright, baby?” 

“Robb said you were leaving.” His voice is small, hesitant and Sansa stops kneading to take a look at him. She looks at him, at Rickon and remembers him as a baby, she remembers how difficult he had been then, how the maids had given up on trying to calm him and how she had taken up on the task, always patient, always with a smile, and how slowly but surely Rickon had calmed down. She sees him and she remembers the many nights she spent during the long winters, singing him to sleep when her mother had a sick Arya or a scared Bran to take care of, how he would clutch to her gown and she would hold him close and rub his back and hair until he fell asleep. She had a sacred bond with Rickon; like with all her other siblings, but while Robb and her became each other’s best friends because they were the first two and Arya and her had trouble seeing eye to eye sometimes and she loved Bran with all her heart, but Rickon… Rickon loves her before anyone else. That’s why he’s here, biting his lip with tense shoulders and pleading eyes, because when something is troubling him, she’s the one he seeks first and foremost. 

“Come here.” She calls him as she wipes her hands on her apron. He immediately lets go of the sweet bread and comes to her side. She grabs his hands and pushes a few curls away from his beautiful face. She can’t help but smile at him, her baby brother, she loves him so much. 

“What did Robb tell you?” She asks, she doesn’t want to tell him the truth immediately, doesn’t want to tell him that she doesn’t want to leave. 

“He said that Jon has been called back to the capital and that since you’re his wife, you’re going to have to go with him, and that we’re lucky enough that you came all this way in the middle of a war and that you made it.” Rickon blurts out and his bottom lip is shaking and Sansa knows the tears aren’t far now - his or hers, she’s not certain. She almost wants to be mad at Robb for telling Rickon, but she should have known it was bound to happen. With a sigh, she looks at him and gathers herself. 

“It’s true. Robb is right.” And then, she pretends her voice doesn’t crack when she speaks again. “I have to leave with Jon.”

“Can’t I come with you?” Rickon asks, pleads and she almost cries at then, because no, no he can’t, not him, this damned corrupted city will never have the soul of her bright faced, too good for this world little brother. 

Blinking back her tears, she shakes her head. “No, my baby. No that’s not possible.” 

“Why?” Rickon begs and a tear escapes his beautiful green eyes. “Why can’t I come with you? I am old enough!” 

“Rickon, it’s not that!” She tries to explain. She grabs him by the shoulders and tries to calm him. “You’re… You can’t come with me, because the capital is not the place for you. You’re not meant to be there, you’re too good, too precious to ever go in this city. No, your place is here, in Winterfell.” 

“Then, why aren’t you staying? You’re a Stark, you’re part of the pack, Jon is part of the pack too, why aren’t you both staying?” 

Sansa doesn’t want to lie to him, but how can she explain everything to him? She doesn’t want him to know what’s happening in the capital, not when she doesn’t know herself anyway, and no, she can’t let him know, not him. She drops a kiss to his forehead, and caress his cheeks, wiping the newly shed tears. 

“Because we have to protect the pack.” She says and he doesn’t seem to understand, and it’s okay, she’s not asking him to. One day he will. “Someone has to, right now.” She says and she hugs him, not knowing how right she’ll be in the end. 

“Now, will you help me bake the last batch and then hand it out to everyone?” Rickon nods at her request and together they set out on the task and she eases into easy conversation with him. She learns about the dogs he feeds every day and how he wants to learn how to train them, she learns that Arya teaches him to shoot with a bow and that Robb has tried to teach him to fight but he prefers archery for now. He tells her about a boy that’s been helping him too, and Sansa notices the blush on his cheeks when she asks him if he likes him. Rickon doesn’t answer, only turns around to put the breads out of the oven but Sansa smiles, knowing the answer. 

She hadn't imagined leaving her home would have been so hard the second time. But as she stands in the courtyard, as she looks at her siblings and parents, she thinks she won't be able to stop crying. She hugs Rickon tightly and brush his unruly hair out of his face. « Take care of yourself, okay ? » She gets closer to whisper in his ear. « And tell him you like him. » Rickon blushes furiously at his big sister's words and Sansa sees him casting a quick glance at Jojen Reed, standing in the distance. Sansa smiles and drops a kiss to her brother's forehead. He promises to write to her, and she makes a mental note to check the messenger's hall back in Constantinople. Bran hugs her tightly and asks that she sends more books from the palace and she tells him that she’ll try. Arya embraces her shortly, but she finds tears on her cheeks too so Sansa doesn't blame her. Saying goodbye to Robb is the hardest, she tries to hold it, she tries to keep her tears in but Robb hugs her and she thinks of the last month and a half with him, with them, her family. How can she leave ? How can she leave, when it's the most at home she's ever felt ? She looks into her brother's blue eyes, the same as hers, and she thinks she can't. She can't turn back, she wants to tell Jon and the men accompanying them to go without her, she wants to stay here in her brother's arms, safe, home.

Robb is the one to part first and she sees her own reluctance in his eyes, and he kisses her forehead. « Write to us, alright ? » Sansa only nods, her voice lost in her throat. She lets him help her on her horse after she bids goodbye to their parents. She looks at them all once more before turning her horse to follow Jon's as they ride. She doesn't hear the sobs of Arya and Bran, and how Robb tries to comfort them, saying that Jon and Sansa will come back soon ; she doesn't hear Bran say _no, no they won't_.

~~

Constantinople. Truth be told, Jon had never thought he'd see the city again, or walked the stairs up leading to the council room. His chambers feels foreign, a cage rather than a place he used to call home, and he doesn't stay long enough to let himself feel it. His chest hurts and he brushes his scars, knowing it's not them, but it's fine, it's okay, he's fine, he's okay. He repeats the words over and over again in his head as he takes each step up to the council room. Murad has called for him, alone, and Jon wishes someone could have come with him – not someone, Sansa ; he had hated leaving her back in their rooms, hates the emptiness making a partner out of the loneliness he feels.

When he reaches the council room, he nods at the guards at the door before entering. He wishes he had more time, time to collect himself, time to go to Rhaegar's room and grieve, time to cry in Sansa's arms, time to sit and think this over, time to think about why he misses Winterfell and why he's not happy to be back. But he doesn't have time, he doesn't because he enters the room and immediately Murad makes a head gesture at the Lieutenant Osman standing next to him, who then makes his way towards the door.

« Sorry for your loss, general. » The soldier says. « I am.. very sorry. »

He leaves then, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing through his chest, and it feels like a drill piercing through his heart. Jon doesn't have time to reflect on it, because then Murad is hugging him. Jon is taken aback, more than taken aback, and maybe that's why he doesn't immediately respond, and maybe he doesn't know how to respond. He awkwardly pats Murad's back and moves away because, no he doesn't want this. He doesn't want to be here, he doesn't want to be in this council room, doesn't want to be in this palace, doesn't want to be in this city, doesn't want to have people be sorry for his loss. He wants to be back in Winterfell, back in the cold, back in the snowy courtyard training with Robb and Arya, he wants to be back in the Andrinople's forests riding with Rickon and back in the library with Bran, he wants to be back in Sansa's room – _their bedroom_ as they came to call it – but he can't. No, instead he's here, in Constantinople, dealing with things he doesn't want to.

« We're all very sorry for your loss, Jon. » Murad says once he steps away, and Jon can't meet his eyes, can't see the pity in them, can't see the sadness in them, no, he won't meet his eyes. No, he can't. « Anything you need, anything you require, ask, and you shall have it. We're here for you, Jon. »

_No, you're not_ , Jon thinks. _Where were you when Rhaegar fell ? Where were you when we asked for help ? Where were you when your men were being slaughtered every day ? Where were you when Robb was taken and Jon thought he was going to die bringing his best friend back ? Where were you, Murad ?_ Jon wants to yell, Jon wants to scream at his sovereign, but no, these are not the next words out of his mouth. « Thank you, Your Highness. » Jon says.

« I'm sure you'll want to spend some time with your family. Obviously. » Jon feels the demand coming before Murad does. « But I have to know the truth about the advancement of Mehmed's armies. »

Jon wants to slap him across the face. He wants to tell him to go himself and see how far Mehmed's army is, how far Rhaegar and Jon and the Starks managed to push them away from the border. He wants to take him down there, on the battlefield, alone with a sword, and see how he'll do then. But no. Jon raises his eyes to meet his, and keep a straight face. « They're about two days away from the border, by horse that is. If all of the men were to walk, it would take longer perhaps. We've harmed them, and made them weak, there hasn't been an attack in two months but they're only resting. »

It's not over, Jon doesn't say, and he hears Murad say something about being with with his family, but Jon doesn't listen. His family... Rhaegar was his family. Rhaegar was the one who took care of him, the one who always tried to appease the tension between his siblings and him. Who is going to now ?

« You must be tired though. » Murad finally stops his ramblings and Jon nods absent mindedly. «You should go and rest. Enjoy your time with your family. »

Jon doesn't know what to answer so he only bows and excuses himself before turning around and exiting the room. He makes his way back to his room in silence, barely registering anyone that crosses his path. When he closes the door of his bedroom behind him, he stays his forehead pressed to the frame, with his eyes closed, trying to collect his breath. He doesn't see Sansa stopping her hands unfolding the clothes, looking at him with furrowed brows.

« Jon ? » He hears her call, but he doesn't answer, doesn't trust his voice with the task just yet. It's all too much right now.

He breaks like a glass falling from a thousand feet window, and his knees give up under him and his sobs rock his chest and it hurts, everything hurts and there's not enough air coming in his lungs, it comes through in ragged waves through his mouth, it's not enough to calm the overwhelming ache of everything he's feeling. He feels arms around him and he extends his hand to hold on, hold on because otherwise he'll drown. Time is frozen while he stays there, in Sansa's arms, wetting her dress, shaking her whole body with his own. He doesn't know how long he stays there, on the floor, sobbing like a child, he doesn't know when Sansa helps him up again and gets him in bed, doesn't know how long she holds him, how long he cries against her chest, how long before Sansa's fingers in his hair lull him to sleep.

  
  


The water is warm around him, he doesn't know if it's Sansa or the water she's spreading on him with the cloth, but Jon is thankful. His muscles are not tense anymore, his chest feels light anymore, he's breathing normally again. Sansa's movements in his back are slow, soothing, loving. He had woken to the sound of water being poured in the tub and he had found her in their bathroom, pouring a bucket of steaming hot water in their tub. She had undressed him quietly and pulled him in the tub and proceeded to clean him. Her touch feels so much like a mother's touch, and Jon thinks she'd be a fantastic mother.

«I am sorry you had to see me like this. » He speaks for the first he's entered the room, and his throat feels dry after all the sobbing. « I don't know what came over me.. »

He feels Sansa's lips on the back of his neck and he closes his eyes as her arms circle around his waist. « You're allowed to be sad, Jon. No one is going to blame you if you grieve your brother. »

He wants to ask how she knows he's missing Rhaegar, he wants to ask but the answer is already there ; it's Sansa, she knows him, she knows him by heart, knows what he likes, knows what he doesn't, knows what he needs before he does. They're one and the same. She came to him, like a dream, like a vision of paradise and he's so thankful for her. He'll let himself die in his arms, her embrace as his shroud.

« I'm just not sure I can do this without him. » Jon exhales loudly as the words leave him, the truth lifting off his shoulders. « I'm not like him. I'm not as wise, not as strong. I'm not a leader, Sansa.. »

« That's not true. » Sansa objects, and she gently turns his face to her. « Robb told me how good you were on the battlefield, how you took care of your men. You'll do Rhaegar justice, Jon, I am sure of it. »

« But what if I don't ? But what if I don't and we lose everything ? » He says and he feels the tears, feels their burn and Sansa circles his face with her soft hands.

« You'll still have me. » She plants a soft kiss on his cheek, and he closes his eyes again, indulging, putting the feel of her lips to memory. He wants to stay there forever, forever safe, forever held. If Allah has to take his life, let it be while his lover holds him safe and sound and warm and loved. 

Sansa is cutting his hair when a knock on the door is heard. He sighs, and Sansa's hands still around a curl and he looks up at her and he shakes his head slightly at her, answering her questioning eyes in silence.

« It's open. » He says loudly, and Sansa resumes her movements, closing the pair of scissors sharply over the dark curl.

Daenerys and Viserys enter their bedroom together, and Jon schools his expression to a stoic one and hopes the remains of the hot bath hides his stained cheeks and red eyes. His siblings both are wearing black outfits, and it's another reminder that they've lost one of them.

« Jon. Sansa. » Daenerys acknowledges them with a nod while Viserys stays silent at her side. « We were surprised when you didn't come to find us after your meeting with the Sultan. » Her tone is condescending per usual, and Jon hasn't missed it at all.

« And you weren't there when we arrived this morning, even though I have been away for eleven months and almost died. » Jon doesn't stop the venom from sipping into his words. _Let them feel it_ , he thinks, _let them have a taste of their own medicine_. He keeps his gaze on them while they register his words.

« We weren't expecting you so soon. » Viserys says.

_Were you expecting me at all ?_ The thought comes at the same time Sansa drags the scissors close to his neck. He can feel her fingers pressing against his skin and he's thankful for her presence at his side. « You didn't get our message ? » Jon says with fake concern. « Oh, that's strange. » He knows that they're probably responsible for the letters Sansa nor the Sultan never received. A taste of their own medicine.

His siblings don't answer him, and Jon wishes they would leave already. They look so much like Rhaegar, with their ashy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes ; as a kid, Jon had thought it bizarre, how he was the only one to not look like their father, he had inherited his mother's look with the jet black hair and grey eyes, his mother had reassured him in telling him that it made him special, but now looking at his twin siblings, he can't help but feel even more like an outcast.

Viserys turns to Sansa in a sharp move and looks her up and down before staring at the food and water on their table. « Has your time in the north made you lost your manners ? Or perhaps being in your home for too long you forgot what your place at court was. » He spats the words at Sansa, and Jon almost wants to grab the scissors from Sansa and plant them in Viserys' neck and watch as the red liquid flow out of his body.

But Sansa is calm by his side. She doesn't look up from her task, closing the pair of scissors once more in his hair, as she answers. « I was raised with the knowledge that no matter how highborn you are, there are still a few things you can do by yourself, my lord. If you want water or food, please help yourself, but as you can see, » she buries her fingers in Jon's newly cut hair and scrunches the curls in a light move, « I am busy. »

Jon wants to laugh at the expression on Viserys and Daenerys' face, the hidden insult wiping their condescendance off of their face. Daenerys is fuming, her nostrils flaring in anger. « You're going to let us talk to us like that ?! » She speaks to Jon, her eyes burning with angry flames.

« We've ridden for days and we'd like to rest. » Jon says, dismissing Daenerys' tone. « If you don't intend on being nice, then I believe you know where the door is, dear siblings. »

Daenerys insists. « Jon, we.. We're your family. Don't be like this. Not when we're in the middle of a war, not when we've already lost a brother ! »

At that, Jon's head snaps towards her. He feels Sansa tense behind him and he sees out of the corner of his eye as she puts a hand on his shoulder. He wants to reassure her, to let her know he's fine, but right now, all he can think of is the look on Daenerys' face. He knows which one it is, he's seeing it before, but he's never seen her use it on him though. He stands up from the chair he was sitting on, and takes the three steps separating from his siblings. He towers over both of them, and he knows he has to calm down, not giving in to his anger, to his grief. His voice is calm when he speaks, calm but a dragon never screams before he spits fire on his foes.

« You don't know what war is. You don't know what having to bury your men, your friends, your brother is. You talk of war but you sat here for eleven months while Rhaegar and I fought every day so you could keep sitting here without seeing a drop of blood. Do not talk to me about war. Do not talk about what we lost. Not when you weren't there. Not when you did nothing to stop it. »

Daenerys and Viserys are both surprised, stunned by his words and tone and one look of Jon stops them from trying to retort. Jon doesn't know what he'll do if he hears another word out of their mouth. He feels Sansa's fingers brushing his forearm before finding his and intertwining them, and the next second, she's by his side.

« I think you should leave. » Sansa speaks next to him and Daenerys and Viserys look at them both before turning around and passing through the door.

But not before Viserys lets out a snappy remark. « Seems like too much time with your in laws has turned you into a wolf after all. »

They close the door behind them and Sansa locks it. Jon lets out a long breath he didn't know he was holding and he almost breaks down again, but Sansa's hands are around his neck again and his forehead falls against her. Her thumb draws small circular patterns behind his ears and it reminds of all the nights she used to take care of him back in Winterfell.

« It's okay, you're okay now.. » She whispers softly. « You're good, everything is good... »

They stay like this for a few more minutes and Jon regains a steady breathing rhythm. « Thank you. » He tells her, not sure why, what for. How could a simple thank you suffice for all the stitches she sow on his body, for all the nights she spent feeding him, and taking care of him and nursing him back to health ? No, thank you isn't enough, but it's all his brain can think of.

« Anytime. » Her forehead leaves his and she looks up at him, her fingers going through his short curls. « My wolf.. » She tests the words on her tongue and smiles. « My white wolf.. » Jon likes the sound of that. It sounds so much better than The White Dragon, or whatever the soldiers call him. He wonders if it sounds better because it's Sansa calling him like this, or because he feels more wolf than dragon these days. Maybe Viserys is right, maybe all this time spent with the Starks has turned into one – and if it doesn't feel bad then that's his problem. 

« I'm sorry you had to marry in this family. » Jon sighs.

« You need to stop apologising for your family. » Sansa says and she walks back to him. « Besides, I spent nine months having to deal with them at court. I am used to it by now. »

« I am sorry I left you all alone. » He brings her closer again, and Sansa laces her fingers through his now short hair at the base of his neck. « I wish I never had to leave. »

« But you came back to me. » She says.

« No. » Jon shakes his head slowly, and his hand comes to brush a curl off of her face. « You brought me back. I .. When I went to get your brother back, at some point I really thought I would never see you again. Even on the ride back from their camp, I thought... I thought I would get Robb back home but that was it for me. And then I saw you, I thought it was an hallucination, I was hurt and had lost so much blood, I really thought I wouldn't make it. But I saw you and you were there, with snowflakes in your hair, looking like a dream. You brought me back to life. »

Sansa looks at him with soft eyes and a trembling bottom lip, and she looks so young then, not the eighteen years old girl she is now. « I told you I would bring you back if you left me too long. » She lets her head falls to his chest and Jon moves on instinct, and drops a kiss to the top of her head. « Don't leave me again. Please. »

« Never. » Jon answers and he seals his promise with a tight embrace. He won't ever leave her, not now, not anymore, not ever.

  
  


It takes him a while to gather his surroundings around the palace again. He had grown so used to Winterfell, its stone walls, the greyness of everything, he had grown so used to this routine of getting up, breaking fast with the Starks, sparring with Robb and Arya, riding with Rickon and reading with Bran and Lord Stark. He almost feels weird the first few times he doesn't find Lady Catelyn walking around as she enquires about the soldiers. For two days, he almost hopes to find Rickon and his messy curls as he turns around a corner, or sometimes he'll hear children playing in one of the courtyards and he'll go and look and his heart will fall in his chest when he finds out it's not Bran and Arya. Trying to ease off the tension in his muscles he'll go to the training courtyard but find none of the men brings a fight as good as Robb or Arya would have. He'll go to the council room and see the empty spot where his brother Rhaegar would have stood and tears will threaten to fall everytime.

He spends his time reacquainting himself with the lords and ladies of the court, spending more time than he used to talking to them and asking them about their lives and the events of the last eleven months. But everytime, he feels like a fraud, like he's pretending to be someone he's not - like he's pretending to be Rhaegar. He wonders when this ache he feels will leave him, when is he going to miss this other life he had. At night, Sansa will put a salve on his scars and with each pat of a finger he feels he's throwing it away, the remainings of a life he had and lost outside of these walls.

« Do you miss your family ? » He asks one night as she closes back the lid over the pot of salve. He watches as her hands still for a quick second and then they move again, more quickly and Jon wonders.

« I do. » She answers as she turns back to him. « Every day, all the time. » She sits back on the bed next to him, and sighs. « Sometimes, I feel bad that I will never call this place my home. Then I remember Winterfell, I remember afternoons with Rickon as we play, I remember Arya's unruly hair and how she asked me to braid it before she'd leave to train with the boys. I remember Robb and how he cried when he saw me when he woke up after you brought him back. I remember all the nights with Bran and mother spent in the library. I remember father and the stories he would tell every night. I remember it all, and I miss it so much. Then I feel guilty because I am not missing anything here, but .. It's not home. »

Jon wipes the tears streaming down her cheeks, and kiss her forehead. « I miss everything too. » He admits and a weight is lifted off of his shoulder as the words escape him. « I wish we could go back. »

« I wish too. But we're here now.»

He sighs, knowing it's the truth. « Yes. We're here now.» She lets her fingers brush over his hands. He knows what she wants to say. After Daenerys and Viserys' visit that first day, he had been reminded of something: the missing letters. Jon had explained to Sansa before that he had written to her every day he could manage to, every time he wasn't on the battlefield fighting for her home, he would write to her. But she had never seen any of these letters. At least a hundred letters, thousands of words that she's never going to read, feelings that he poured out that she's never going to see, never going to know. Jon knows who's responsible for it, his sister and brother always made sure that each letter sent to the palace was thoroughly examined , he had found it necessary in the past, but now... He would have to see to it.

  
  


He's making his way to the training courtyard, hoping to get his muscles working today. Plus, he could use a bit more training to get back into shape. Not that he doesn't love it, but the two months he spent in Winterfell licking his wounds and being overfed by Catelyn Stark didn’t do him any good. When Jon had first arrived in Winterfell, Lady Stark had frowned at him and said he needed to eat a bit more. He had frowned and asked Robb if he looked skinny, to which Robb had laughed and said she says this to all her children and Jon had wanted to weep then. He aches at the memory but he doesn't let the tears fall, no, he can't afford to have people know he's hurting.

He enters the training courtyard and immediately takes in his surroundings. Two lords are here, as well as Lieutenant Osman and Jon thinks. Rhaegar once praised him on his quick thinking, let's hope it pays off today. He makes his way to them and schools his expression.

« My lords, Osman, good afternoon. » He says as he approaches them. « Anyone fancying putting me back in shape ? »

« I think it'd be the other way around, Jon. » Lord Jülide Aydin says with a smile. Jon has always liked Lord Aydin, they're honest and nice enough that their presence doesn't have to be tolerated. He knows Lord Aydin respected Rhaegar a lot and taught him fighting as a kid. « How are your wounds healing ? »

« Just fine, I can almost get up without being in pain. » Jon answers with a laugh and the men follow him, all except Osman.

« Your pretty wife taking good care of you, hun ? » Lord Ayaz Pehlivan smirks and Jon doesn't listen to the fire boiling in his veins at the man's tone, and only mirrors the smirk.

« Aye, she is. » He answers. « Nothing is sweeter than the touch of your wife, Ayaz. »

« Aye, I second that, Jon. » Ayaz answers and he pats Jon on the shoulder. « Even our own Osman has to agree huh ? » Ayaz turns to Osman who looks utterly uncomfortable. « Did your family agree to the match in the end ? You never told us. »

« You got a proposal, Osman ? » Jon questions and he wonders for a minute. « Congratulations, I didn't know ! »

His words don't ease Osman's discomfort, and the smile that the Lieutenant gives him does little to hide as well. « Yes, Jon. And yes, my parents agreed, Ayaz, we need to settle a date first. »

« Who's the lucky bride to be ? » Jon says, and he waits for an answer, waits for Osman to look at him, waits for Osman to finally meet his eyes but no. Osman barely looks at any of them before excusing himself quickly and turning around and leaving the courtyard. Jon watches him leave, and again, he has him thinking..

« We've scared the boy ! » Jülide laughs as Osman walks away, and Jon looks at the older man.

« Have any of you seen the girl ? » Jon asks and the two men shake their heads. « I didn't even know he was interested in marrying. »

« No one did until your brother and sister announced it before he left. » Ayaz laughs. « It was pretty sudden, didn't even know he had his eye out on a girl before he announced it. But he announced and then announced he was leaving to tell his parents. »

Jon listens carefully and keeps all of these informations locked in his brain. «That's funny... I didn't even know he had any family left.. » Clearing his throat, he turns back to the two lords. « Now, I am here to fight, who wants to ? »

~~

Sansa balances the plate of cakes on her forearm, and knocks with her free hand. A quick second and a maid opens the door for her, and Sansa smiles.

« Good morning Yasmin. Is Lady Daenerys available ? » Sansa asks with a bright smile. She presents the plate of cakes she brought with her. « I'm afraid I baked too much cakes and thought she would like to have some. »

« Of course, Lady Sansa. Please come in. » Yasmin returns Sansa's smile and opens the doors wider to let Sansa in. Yazmin takes the plate from Sansa's hands. « Let me help you with that. My lady is by her balcony, follow me. »

Sansa follows her and takes Daenerys' chambers in. There's a canopy bed in a far corner, and she sees the door leading to the private bathroom. There's a shelf filled with books, and Sansa thinks Arya would love to read all of them. There's also a large table where a vase filled with flowers, there's a red vest thrown across the back of one of the chairs and Sansa frowns – she's seen it before, but where ?

They reach the balcony and Sansa finds Daenerys sitting at the table placed there, reading a letter with a few others placed on the table, unopened. Sansa is surprised to find an abundance of plants growing in pots by the edge of the balcony. Noticing her, Daenerys raises her head.

« Lady Stark has brought you cakes, my lady. » Yazmin announces, showing the plate of cakes.

« To what do I owe this pleasant surprise ? » Daenerys says as she rises from her chair, and takes a steps forward. Her eyes scan the plate while Sansa tries to remember what Arya taught her.

« I'm afraid I went a little overboard this morning. » Sansa says with an embarrassed laugh. « I was missing home and thought baking would help me and I ended up hours in the kitchen making all of these. I thought you might like some of them. »

« What a nice thought. » Daenerys nods at her. « Thank you, my lady. »

Sansa bows. She can feel Daenerys' eyes on her, probably wondering why she's here, acting all sweet, and Sansa hopes her body doesn't betray her. _You're a wolf_ , she thinks _, you're a Stark of Winterfell, you can be brave_. She gives Daenerys her best smile and it must work, because Daenerys smiles back and offers a seat at her table. Daenerys nods at Yazmin who goes back into the chambers. Sansa takes a seat and gestures to the plate.

« I am suddenly realizing I haven't tasted any of them. I am not sure they're to your liking. »

Daenerys takes a vanilla flavoured cake while Sansa takes one lemon flavoured. She bites into the cake, and almost lets out an audible moan, because god, she sure loves lemon cake. She looks at Daenerys after the silver haired lady takes her first bite and the face she makes is one of pure surprise.

« My lady, this is wonderful ! » Daenerys exclaims and Sansa smiles in gratitude. « I'm afraid I might just eat them all ! »

« They're yours to have ! » They finish their small cakes in a few more bites before Sansa speaks again. « My lady.. I wanted to apologize for the way I talked to you and Viserys when you came to visit Jon and I after we came back. I … I behaved so badly. »

« You were tired, my lady. » Daenerys says. « I'm not sure how I would've acted if someone was barging in my room when all I wanted was to rest. »

« But still. » Sansa shakes her head. « I should've been kinder. You've lost a brother and you came to see Jon and I was despicable to you both... I don't deserve your forgiveness. »

« Sansa, no, » and Daenerys grabs her hands on the table and squeezes it, Sansa almost wants to smile but no, _do not cry victory yet_ , « please, there's nothing to forgive. I completely understand. »

« Thank you. » Sansa sniffles quietly and she puts her hand over Daenerys'. « I want us to stop our little quarrels and petty fights. We're in the middle of a war and my time with my family has only made me realize that you never know who you might lose and when. I don't want something to happen to you and regret our time together. »

Daenerys smiles but it's a sad one. « Don't worry, nothing is going to me. »

Sansa tries to not be surprised by the confidence Daenerys is showing and she hopes the women in front of her can't see it. « Of course. I would love for us to be friends, to be able to call you sister. »

Sansa keeps her smile on, even when she feels Daenerys' hands tense under hers, but Sansa keeps her steady. « I would like that very much. » Daenerys' voice is shaky and not genuine in the slightest and Sansa wonders if it's all the months she spent listening Daenerys that made her so used to the taunt in her voice, that now not hearing it feels strange. But she smiles even wider. A wolf in a dragon's pit. What would her mother say if she knew what Sansa was doing ? She doesn't know, but she keeps her hands and smile in place, and thinks about Jon instead, and reminds herself why she's doing this in the first place.

  
  


She's walking back from Daenerys' room when she decides to go down to the training courtyard, where she knows Jon is. She knows he's training hard to get back into shape and go back to his state prior his wounds. She makes her way down the stairs and enters the courtyard, where she sees that Jon is the one training. She recognizes Lord Aksoy being his opponent and from what she can see, he's not going easy on her husband. She goes to stand next to the few lords watching. Lord Pehlivan , Lord Demir, and Lord Naskali are there, and she nods in greetings. They nod back at her and Lord Pehlivan immediately comes close to her. During the months Jon was away, he had made it his habit to break the typical formalities with her and make sure she knew he wanted more than a friendship. She had told him no countless times, had told him it wasn't proper, that he had a wife and she a husband, but apparently Ayaz Pehlivan cares very little for formalities.

He stops once he's by her side, and Sansa tries not to show her discomfort and stays still, her eyes fixed on Jon as he moves to avoid Aksoy's hits. « Looks like your husband is getting himself a proper fight. »

Her eyes stay on Jon as he moves around, trying to block Aksoy's blows and how he seems to struggle to hold him back. She thinks about the wounds she attends to, she thinks about the empty pot of salve on her bedside table, and she shows a small smile.

« He's trying very hard to get back in shape. » She says as she watches him stop a blow and the air gets stuck in her throat, and she wants to reach out, wants to soothe the tension in his shoulders, wants to ease the fire burning the fire in his eyes but no, no, _we all have our battles_. « He's hoping to go back to the front soon. »

« He's been back for only a month. » Ayaz scoffs. « He should rest, stay a bit longer, » and then he looks at Sansa intently, « take care of his little wife. »

Sansa turns to him and wants to slap him, she has to clench her hands in fists to fight the urge. For a second, she lets herself imagine what his face would look like all wounded and bloody and beaten up. She knows he has never seen a battlefield in his life, he probably has never seen blood in his life, probably never had a single cut on his body. She knows if he were to go in the courtyard and challenge Jon, he wouldn't stand a chance and Jon would ruin him in seconds. She keeps the real reason for her smile to herself, and Jon later, when she speaks. « Everyone has their duty, my lord. »

« And a husband's is to his wife. »

« And yet, you're here. Standing next to me, and not your wife. » Sansa snaps back, and she tries to help it, but she can't. She wishes she could claw at his face and show everyone who he is, who they all are – snakes, the whole lot of them, and she hates that to survive, she had to be a snake too. She turns back to watch Jon, and sees how he is winning back the advantage in the fight. She smirks ; he does a pirouette that Sansa knows is one of her brother's moves and the pride swells in her chest. She sees the smirk on Jon's face as well, and hopes it doesn't break everything they're building.

« It looks like my husband brought the fight after all. » Sansa says and she pushes herself from the rail she was leaning on. Ayaz opens his mouth to speak but Sansa stops him before he can speak. « No need for you to speak, Lord Pehlivan. We all know it won't be as clever as you want it to. » With that, she turns on her heels and follows the rail and she sees Jon dropping his sword as he makes his way to her. She's grinning by the time she reaches him and she can't help but grin even bigger when he embraces her and kisses her fully on the lips ; she can feel the sweat on his body clinging to his tunic, can smell it on him, but she doesn't care, she doesn't care that everyone is probably watching them, doesn't care it's not proper but they can go to hell. They all can, Jon and she are married after all, if they have something to say, let them.

« Can I borrow my husband, my lord ? » She asks against his lips.

« No need to borrow me, I'm all yours, my lady. » Jon answers and with another press of his lips against hers, he takes her hand to lead her out of the courtyard. She sees briefly the looks the lords gave them, she sees the way they try to advert their eyes but she doesn't care, not when she knows Jon is hers, not when she knows what he thinks, what he does, not when she is privy of his every thought, not when he's privy of hers.

  
  


He kisses her bare shoulder after she collapses next to him, exhausted and spent. Sansa doesn't think anything will be better than this, having Jon next to her like this, being close, closer than possible, having him so close, it feels like home.

« That was... » She starts but she's still trying to catch her breath and can't finish her train of thought.

« Wonderful. » Jon finishes though. « That was wonderful.. » He's panting too, and Sansa chuckles because yes, wonderful is a good word for what they've done. She pushes herself up on her elbow, and lets her finger roam on his chest. « How are you today ? How did you do ? »

« Well, I think. » Jon shrugs slightly. « They talk but it's not enough. I know there’s something missing and we’re not seeing it. And you ? »

« I don't think she trusts me yet. » Sansa answers. « But I'll find out what she's hiding. Did you learn something ? »

« Osman still doesn't trust me and I don't get it. Every time I've tried to ask him about this soon to be wife, he changes the subject or leaves. And no one seems to know who the intended is. »

« It's strange isn't it ? » Sansa says, thinking. « That he just got a proposal in the middle of a war and accepted it and now he's back here and.. »

« Yes, it is strange. » Jon sighs. « Have you find some of the letters ? »

« No. But I'm trying. » Sansa admits. « She just never leaves her room. I keep trying to find excuses, I've learned her habits, but I just can't seem to get her out of her room. And she’s watching me like a hawk when I am in her room, so I can’t look. »

« We have a council scheduled for tomorrow morning. She'll be there, with Viserys. You'll be able to get in then. » Jon says.

Sansa nods. « Are you sure ? Are we really doing this ? » Jon only nods back.

« We gotta protect our family. » Jon raises his head to kiss her and Sansa kisses him back. « All for the pack. »

« All for the pack. » 

Sansa waits until the corridor is clear of maids and she knows every maid has left. Daenerys' shield has left with her to the council and Sansa waits. She waits, she waits for the ultimate silence, for her heart to stop beating so rapidly in her chest and then she leaves the safety of the shadow on the wall and walks towards Daenerys' door. She opens it carefully, as slowly as she can to not make any noise, but also as fast as she can so if anyone was to pass the corridor they wouldn't see her. Once in, she takes a minute to gather herself and look around. The room is empty except for her ; she looks around, trying to commit the room to memory before she touches anything. Everything is neatly put together, as always, and Sansa knows Daenerys enough to know she's extra careful. Her room is clean, not a single thing out of place. There's a perfume lingering in the air, citrus and leather and something else, and Sansa doesn't recognize it as Daenerys' but she doesn't think too hard on it, it's not that important.

She goes to the desk where she knows Daenerys keeps some of her mail. She carefully looks over the papers but can't find anything with Jon's handwriting. She starts to look around for anything else then goes to the drawers where Daenerys keeps her clothes. Sansa tries to look without messing the clothes, but nothing. No sign of any letter from Jon. Sansa sighs as she looks around the room, hoping to find something but she can't. She tries to calm her nerves for a second, and thinks. She thinks about Daenerys, about her manners, about her habits. She likes everything to be proper, she likes everything to be neat and formal and she likes people to follow her rules. If she were Daenerys, and she wanted to hide something, where would she put it ? Sansa almost growls when the answer comes. Of course, Daenerys wouldn't hide anything important in her room. But where ? Sansa thinks about Viserys' room but she doesn't want to go in there at all. But the more she thinks about it, she realizes Daenerys probably wouldn't have hid anything in his room, no matter how important. God, she doesn't want to give up, but what else can she do ? She feels hopeless because what is she going to do now ? What is she going to do ? What could she possibly do to find out the truth ? There's no way she can ask Daenerys herself where are the letters, but Sansa needs to know, hell Jon needs to know ! They need to know if she's the one who took them, why Jon's letters and her families' never came, where they are, they do need it, she does most of all. She thinks about Jon, imagines him spending his battle-free moments writing to her, and she is filled with rage at the fact that she's never going to know, and that she's probably standing in the room of the person who is responsible makes her want to burn everything. She can't stay here, she can't otherwise, she might just do it, and if she does, everything will be ruined, all of Jon's and her efforts will go to waste.

She leaves the room in a hurry, after making sure that she hadn't messed everything up. She walks down the corridor, her fists buried in her skirts, and her jaw tight. She can't believe she's failing, she's not used to this, all her life she has always managed to figure something but now... what could she do ? What could she possibly do to make it right ? What would make it right ?

Preoccupied, she turns around a corner but she is met with a hard chest and falls on the ground.

« Oh my god, my lady ! Are you alright ? » A strong hand grabs her and helps her up. She recognizes Lieutenant Osman, a friend of Jon's, and she offers him a smile.

« Oh Lieutenant Osman, I'm awfully confused ! » Sansa exclaims, playing her part. « I'm sorry I wasn't looking where I was going, I seem to have lost myself again ! » She gets back on her feet and undoes the creases of her skirt with her hands and dusts the fabric lightly.

« Are you alright, my lady ? You're not hurt ? » Osman asks.

« I think I'm alright, thank you sir. » Sansa says and she takes a proper look at him. He's rather handsome, with his blonde hair falling on his face slightly, in small waves. He's got blue eyes and a nice facial structure. He's wearing a lovely fitted red vest, and some loose salwar. She has seen him around of course, for he is usually there in the courtyard when Jon is training, and she thinks maybe in another life, maybe she could have fallen for him, for his looks. She has seen him around court too, but never long enough for them to have a conversation. « I am sorry, this is not usually like me to be too distracted that I end up falling on people. »

« It's no worries, my lady. If anything, I am glad it was me and not one of the other soldiers who would have let you on the floor and run off. » He says.

«Well, I am glad it's you then. » Sansa says and she bows in gratitude. She looks up at him and she catches a whiff of leather and it changes everything. « I was most glad to hear about your wedding announcement my lord. I never had the chance to tell you before with... everything that's happened. »

« Well, thank you my lady. » He seems to grow uncomfortable at her words but she pretends not to see and goes on.

«I can't wait to see her and for the palace to be joyful again. All these talks of war and fighting is making everything just miserable but now, with your wedding, we might have a few happy days ahead of ourselves. »

Osman smiles but Sansa has given enough fake smiles to recognize one when she sees one. « Thank you, my lady, I'm sure it'll.. I'm sure it'll be a fine affair. »

« I'm sure it will be, you must be so excited ! » Sansa says but she knows it's a lie. She knows by the look on his face, how he avoids her eye, how his smile falters just the slightest, but she keeps smiling. « Well, don't feel obliged to stay for me. You were on your way to something and I've been only an inconvenience to you. I am sorry. With my respects, good sir. »

She curtsies and walks past him and doesn't look back. Not once, not even when she hears his footsteps start, not when she stops after turning around the corner, listening, waiting, not even once when she hears his footsteps stop, then a door open then close. A smile breaks on her face ; she grabs her skirts and runs down the long series of corridors to her chambers. Everything might not be ruined yet.

~~

« But why would she make him marry someone if they're having an affair ? » Jon asks as he paces around the room. « What could possibly have happened that would make Daenerys want to dispose of him that quickly ? »

Sansa's words still echo in his mind. He couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe it if he tried, and he was trying, he was trying to so hard, but it doesn't make sense.

« I don't know, all I know is that he left for the approval of his marriage proposal. I asked around, and lady Pehlivan has told me that his parents come from the west, which means he must have travelled for days, but apparently he was back after only two weeks, which doesn't follow.. »

« He didn't go west. » The truth hits Jon like a horse running full speed into a wall. « He went North. » He hopes he's wrong, he really hopes he does. _Allah, please let me be wrong_.

« North ? » Sansa questions. « But why... » Jon sees the moment she understands and the look she gives him afterwards doesn't help his growing anxiety. « Jon you don't think.. No... He was your brother, she wouldn't do that. Viserys wouldn't let her. »

Even Jon can tell she doesn't believe her words. « Can you imagine Viserys saying no to Daenerys ? » Sansa doesn't respond. « Neither can I. I just... » He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. « This can't happen.. This can not be, it's not supposed to be like this.. » he whispers and he wants to cry, he wants to weep, he wants to yell for his dead brother, for his siblings that seem to have forgotten the bond of family.

« Jon, I am so sorry... »

« I need to see her. » Jon says and he moves to the door, but Sansa jumps in front of him. « Sansa. Please, step aside. »

« Jon, no ! » She puts her hands on his chest, trying to stop from moving further but he can't, he can't stop. « Jon, we don't know if we're right, you can't do anything until we know more ! »

« Sansa, move away ! »

« Jon, please, no, we might be wrong ! Jon ! » Sansa yells but he moves away from her grasp and lets his feet take him away. He is a beast now, he seems like he's flying out of the room, he's angry, no, he's a mad man, he's a dragon right now, _no_ , not a wolf, not the calm, lurking wolf he's been for the past few weeks, gathering informations. No, that wolf is gone, the dragon is here now.

He reaches Daenerys' door and doesn't bother to knock before he opens the room. He barges in and lets his anger flooding off of him and he knows Daenerys can see it, he knows Viserys can see it, he knows they can , and god, he hopes they do. He sees them and they stop talking when he barges in, only look at him. Jon returns their look , only with more vehemence, his fingers are twitching at his sides, his blood is boiling in his veins. He hears Sansa arriving behind him, feels her more like, and he wishes her calming nature would appease him now. He wishes the fingers she presses around his arm could stop the need he has to wrap his hands around his sister's throat, the will he has to draw his dagger out and slit his brother's throat.

« Sansa. Close the door. » He commands and he takes a step further into the room and Sansa does as he asks. Her fingers are back instantly on his skin but they do nothing to calm him, it only grounds him, it's only a pressure that reminds him of everything, everything that happened.

« Jon. Sansa. To what do we- » Viserys starts but Jon cuts him.

« Did you order Osman to kill Rhaegar ? » Jon blurts out and he feels Sansa's fingers clutching around his wrist, but it's too late now.

« What are you even talking about ? » Daenerys asks and Jon's eyes flicker to her. He knows that look. It's the look she gives people when she's guilty and has been caught – it's the same look she gave Rhaegar when she once stole bread from the market when they had to live off of the streets. His heart sink in his chest when he sees it, because how.

« Why ? » Jon demands and Viserys goes to speak, surely to lie, but Jon doesn't let him. « Please, tell me why so I can at least explain to the Sultan why your bodies were thrown from the tower. »

Daenerys and Viserys exchange a look, and Jon hates it, he hates that the bond they share doesn't allow him in, he hates that they're having a silent conversation, and that he's not a part of it. « You wouldn't understand. » Daenerys says. « Everything we're doing is for the sake of our family, our legacy. »

«Our legacy ? » Jon spits her words back to her and moves towards her, leaving Sansa's grip without an effort. « How is killing our brother, the one person who took care of us, part of our legacy ? »

« He didn't understand ! » Viserys cries out and Jon turns to him, his brother, his own kin, and he doesn't recognize him. « We tried to make him understand, Jon, we really tried, but he kept saying we could never, that we would be killed for it.. » There's always been a part of Viserys that Jon never understood, a part of ambition and arrogance that he never knew where came from. The four of them have been raised by the same people, had mostly the same entourage, so how is it that his own blood turned out so different from him ?

« Jon, please, listen. » Daenerys grabs his hand and tries to get to look at him. « Rhaegar.. Rhaegar couldn't have lived in the world we're building. But you could. You both can. » Daenerys extends a hand to Sansa, who only takes a step back from them all. « Think about your future. Do you want to be second best your whole life ? If we do good, you could be prince and princess to lands someday. Mehmed rewards his friends well and- »

« What was the reward for our brother's head ? » Jon asks. He takes his hand out of Daenerys, and he can't even look at her, look at neither of them. « What will be my reward when I give the Sultan your heads ? »

« Jon, please... » Viserys pleads but one look stops him. « We never meant for it to go this far.. »

« Never meant for it to go this far.. » Jon repeats and the words feel as foreign on his lips as his siblings do. « What did you mean for then ? Did you mean to only scare Rhaegar ? Have Mehmed's armies to just give him a warning ? No. I don't believe you. I know you sent Osman to do it. I know it. What else have you done ? What else, huh ? The craziest would be if you were behind Robb's abduction as well ! »

He says this out of spite, but the look in Daenerys' eyes, the clench of Viserys' fists at his sides confirms his deepest fears. « No.. » It's Sansa who breaks the silence. « No... it's not true. »

« We never meant for your brother to be taken. » Daenerys says immediately, moving towards Sansa like a hunter closing on his prey and Jon moves fast so he can stay between them. « We never.. »

« Who, then ? » But he already knows the answer. He scoffs. « So much for thinking about our legacy. It's not our legacy. It's _your_ legacy you're worried about ! »

He turns around, grabbing Sansa's hand in his firmly, ready to lead her out. He has to talk to Murad now, he has to tell him he's been making grave mistakes, but mostly, he needs to be as far away from his siblings as possible. But that plan is cut short when Viserys steps in front of them, a hand on the door.

« You're not going anywhere. » He says, and Jon can't speak, he can't because then he hears Sansa gasp behind him, and when he turns, he can only see her face twisted in pain and shock as she falls next to him, blood pouring out of the wound in her back, where Daenerys' long dagger found its coffin, and he catches her body in his arms, not wanting to let go, not like this.

« Jon.. » She calls and his heart stops beating when he hears it, and for a second, he can't move, he can only stare as the blood leaves Sansa's body, staining his hands as he holds her. He looks up at Daenerys and for the first time, she looks afraid.

« I'm sorry, » she whispers, and a tear escapes her as Viserys holds him to stab his chest. « I never wanted any of this. »

His sister doesn't catch him as he falls to the ground, his body giving out under him. He can't hold Sansa anymore and the emptiness has never been more prominent around him. His head hits the floor hard, and he wishes this could kill him, but no, and for a second, or an hour he doesn't know, all he can do is stay there, and he thinks he could get up, but his chest hurts where Viserys hit him and all he can do is extend his hand towards Sansa's own hand. He thinks he hears hurried footsteps but he doesn't care, no, all he can see is blue eyes staring into his, he tries to move towards her, towards Sansa, he needs to be with her, he can't let her die alone, no , not her. He manages to grab her hand and he presses slightly.

« I'm sorry.. » He lets out, and he's not sure if he feels the pressure of her fingers around his, or if it's just his brain trying to make his last thought a happy one, so he lets himself believe it. He repeats sweet reassurances to her, as much as he could, before the air he leaves.

_I love you. We'll be together again. I love you. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, thoughts?  
> as always, feel free to chat with me on tumblr @shesgotherown and twitter @rivercorenswet :)


	5. India - 1945

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my beautiful people! I am back with another chapter, well, one half of it actually, I wanted to divide this period of time as well, like the previous as it's more dense and I have a lot of things to develop! Here is the first one and because it's set in India ( meri pyari Bharat!) I did let some hindi dialect slip out and therefore, here's a quick guide : 
> 
> sahab : sir ( formal )   
> miyaan : formal term to adress someone but here, it's meant to be endearing  
> bhai : brother   
> meri jaan : my life/my love ( endearing term)   
> Rani sa : my queen
> 
> Feel free to ask me for any other clarifications, I'll gladly help! Enjoy this chapter :) and let me know how you like it!

  1.   
india – 1945  
  




_ « You just found me in the wrong universe. That’s all. This is, as they say, the darkest timeline. Everywhere else, nay, “everywhen” else — us in the Civil War, us in Ancient Egypt, us in the swinging ’60s — we are happy. You could have loved me forever, maybe in another universe, I let you.» _

  
  
  


« If we let them rule over us, we have no power over our own land ! » A voice yells in front of the crowd. « If we stop fighting even for a day, then they think they can win every day ! We can't back down ! »

Sansa exits the newspaper building, pulling her cream dupatta over her hair, as soon as she sees the gathering crowd of men.  _ They're protesting again _ , she thinks. She spots Priya who is waiting for her by the carriage and Sansa nods at her before walking by. Her day at the office had been uneventful , she's still trying to find her place in this new city, trying to think about her family, back in the north of India, back where she truly belongs. She had spent the day thinking about Rickon and Bran, her two little brothers, full of hope, and Arya, her mischievous little sister, and Robb, her hero,her best friend, and her mother and father, her wonderful parents.. gods, how she misses them. She gets into the carriage and as usual, barely acknowledges Priya. She stares out the small door window and notices younger girls running ahead of them.

« What's happening today? »

« It's Dussehra today. The people of Dura Mendi are having the celebrations in the streets as usual. »

Of course, Dussehra, how could she have forgotten ? Gods, forgive her, but she had been so busy, busy resenting her new home and its people that she had forgotten the date. She sees some boys running in the streets, their whole body painted with colored powders, and the music finally reaches her ears and gods, how she misses this too. It brings her back to her last days in her hometown, in her home, before Rhaenys came and ruined all her life. They had had so much fun, chasing kites and dancing and singing, she remembers the race between Robb and her for the last kite. He had won eventually, he always does and a part of her wishes she could resent him for it, but no. Her siblings were a part of her ; after all, she gave up and got married for them. And maybe that's why she asks Priya, because for once, she wants to do something for herself.

« Can we go ? » She asks.

« We shouldn't,  _ chhotai _ ma'am. » Priya answers, but already Sansa is knocking on the panel to let Karan know she wants him to stop. The carriage comes to a stop and Sansa exits it. « Ma'am, please. » Priya tries but Sansa is already out.

She lets the music guides her feet, and soon enough, all she sees are colours and a grand spectacle, and the streets are covered in colourful strides and she knows her white lehenga will probably be stained from it but she doesn't care. A giant float is here, beautifully decorated to recreate the story of Ram and Sita , with a men and women acting out scenes from the myth. She follows it, for a while before she hears another sound, a different voice from the people's singing in the street. It grabs her attention like a lover's embrace, like something is pulling her body to follow it, so she does, she follows that voice, and crosses the small pond on the singular boat to a haveli. She runs up the stairs to the small palace, entering a grand room where she sees a group of girls in traditional clothing dancing, with a woman singing at the center of it all. Sansa is fascinated by the sight she's offered and she can't help herself but to join the woman and the girls as they sing and dance. Somehow, Sansa takes the lead of the song and the dance and she continues the performance. For a minute, as her feet glide over the cold floor in grace, she feels as if she's back home, with her family, dancing with her brothers and sister, she can almost Rickon's laugh playing with the drums outside, she can almost see Bran's small smile as she takes her next steps and she notices a girl that looks just like Arya dancing at her side. When she stops, she waits, waits for Robb's clap but it doesn't come. Only the voice of the woman she interrupted can be heard.

« Your voice is fine. » She says as she takes a step towards Sansa who's at the center of the grand room, where the woman was previously standing. « Even uninvited, it's good. Lacking a bit of salt though. »

Sansa feels her cheeks heat up as the girls in the room start laughing at the woman's comments, and she tries to gather herself, to not let it show. « And with too much salt, life becomes bitter. » She says and the woman raises an eyebrow. « You're Miss Lyanna, aren't you ? »

The woman raises her chin this time. « Indeed, I am. And you are ? »

« Only an admirer of your talent. I.. » Could she ? Could she dare to ask ? « I've heard you sing before, from the Talwars household. I was wondering.. if you'd take a new apprentice ? »

Miss Lyanna smirks and Sansa feels her heart quickening in her chest. « I am afraid you wouldn't be able to afford my services, my child. »

« Name your price and you shall have it. » Sansa answers.

«It's not a question of price. Are you married ? » Sansa nods. « Marriage tends to turn the put out the flame of life that singing brings. I am not sure I can do anything for you. » Lyanna starts to turn around but Sansa doesn't stop.

« I am here to ignite it again. » She says, desperate. « Please, do not let me leave with a no. I won't take it. » In the back of her mind, she can hear her mother call her stubborn, but Sansa pushes it aside.

« Sansa ! » She turns to find Priya climbing the stairs and entering the grand room. « It's getting late, we have to go back. »

Sansa nods at her, and lets her leave before turning back to Lyanna who shows interest. « You're the new wife of Aryan Talwar ? » Sansa nods again. « Come back tomorrow. We'll see if there's some spark left to save. _ Khuda hafiz _ . » And with this, she turns around, walking away, leaving Sansa with a confirmation that even married to a man she doesn't love, there's still something to look forward to.

Placing her veil over her light brown hair, she exits the grand room, ready to wait for the boat that will take her back to the main part of the neighbourhood, but she sees a man climbing up the stairs, his eyes fixated on her as he takes each steps. His hair is black, long, longer than most men's and he's tan, and his body is toned, she can see that even though his loose salwar kameez outfit. Thinking he is probably coming to require of the service of one of the girls for the night, she walks down the stairs, not really caring, but her eyes still look up, finding his, and she thinks they almost feel familiar on her. He stops right in front of her, blocking her way with his imposing tall frame. He just stares at her face, and studies it, his grey eyes hovering over each inch of her face. She should feel embarrassed, or at least some kind of discomfort at the fact that a complete stranger is staring at her, watching her. She's married after all, and it's considered not proper, so she makes a move to the side to resume her path.

« Out of all the voices I've heard in this haveli, yours is the one with the less pain and more love. » She stops in her tracks to look at him as he speaks up. « I didn't know a courtesan's voice could do that. How's it possible ? »

A courtesan... He thinks she's to buy. Maybe it's her pride or just the way the man looks at her, with a hidden hunger she can still see, but she's not about to let him think she's just another one he can use. She wants to tell him he's wrong, that she's not a courtesan that he can purchase, that she's married, but there's a softness behind the hunger, and it feels extremely familiar to her. But that can't be... Not wanting to dwell on it, she turns away from him, about to take the next step when he grabs her wrist and stops her from walking away from him. She stays on the steps below him, his tall frame now hovering over her and she feels her veil fall from her head, but all she can focus on is the warm, steady hand around her wrist. His grip is solid, strong on her skin, it keeps her in place, and she meets his eyes again, and Robb had told her to be careful of men in the city, even as a married men, as some have no morals, and she thinks she ought to yell, scream for help, but something inside her tells her this stranger wouldn't really hurt her. His eyes are soft and his smirk is playful as he speaks up again.

« The further you try to stay away from me, the more you'll find me by your side. » He whispers, and the voice.. this voice is familiar. Where did she hear it before ? His fingers move slightly to a palm and even that feels familiar ; and she doesn't make a move to pull away. His eyes are still on her even when he speaks next,. « Don't try to hide your interest with a disapproving look. »

She stays quiet, not knowing what she could say exactly. She doesn't know him, but still.. something inside of her is tugging to stay there, close to him. Those eyes.. she's seen them before, she knows she has. He looks down, for the first time, and she realizes he's not holding her hand anymore, and she's still frozen, with her arm up, and she lets it drop to her side, a little embarrassed.

« Jon. » He says. His name, and she knows this name. She's heard it before – she has said it before – but where..

Not wanting him to see her blush and wanting for her heart to stop racing, she turns around, putting as much distance as she can between the man and her. She gets on the small boat and nods at the man so he can start rowing to get them across the pond. They're moving swiftly on the water, and she tries to push away the emptiness that's slowly filling her body, surrounding her bones, and her heart yearns and it screams for the warmth she felt only moments before. Against her better instincts, she turns around, and she finds the boy watching her still. She finds his grey eyes, even from a distance, and she sees how they soften, and how a little smile appears at the corner of his lips and suddenly her heart swells again in her chest and the feeling is familiar. She's felt this before, and this time it stays with her, long after she's left Dura Mendi, long after she's gotten home, long after she's stared out at her window. Long after the window is closed, it stays.

~~

Jon opens his window, letting some of the cold air in, the events of today replaying in his head as he watches over the city lights. The candles have been lit for the festival and there's still some music playing in the streets, Dura Mendi won't be sleeping tonight, Jon thinks. He thinks back on the festival, and the colours, and the loud joy he had felt at seeing all of this. He remembers of the girl he saw. The girl in the white lehenga. She had stood out, amongst the colourful sights, but she was by far the most beautiful in his eyes. She had appeared to him, out of the corner of his eye, like a vision, and all of sudden, she was all he could see. Every turn he'd take , she would be there, and his heart had screamed at him to get to her, which he had tried ; he had tried to follow her through the crowd, but his friends would always pull him when he would get too close, close but never close enough. And then he had heard singing, a voice he had never heard before coming from the haveli – but somehow, he knew that voice, it echoed in him like bells ringing in a church , and it pulled him towards the haveli. And he had found her there, coming out of Lyanna's haveli. He remembers everything of this moment, she had looked mesmerizing, her beautiful white and cream lehenga painting her as a goddess, descending amongst mortals to bless them. He doesn't even know her name, he had tried to talk to her, used his usual lines on her but no, he hadn't been able to get a word out of her. And yet here he is, unable to forget her eyes, those blue eyes, they don't leave him alone, even as he eats, even as he bends his head on his praying mat and whispers his words to the Lord, even when he lies next to Val after she makes him feel less unwanted.

« Have you talked to Rahul ? » Val asks him as she lies next to him. « He was upset you weren't at the meeting today. » He doesn't answer, only stares at the ceiling, thinking about the soft skin of the fair girl under his. « You know, some of the girls are thinking about leaving, they're afraid the talks of the Partition is going to cost us our jobs.. Even with the wedding of Aryan Talwar, it's all people care about. »

At this, Jon's attention is back on her. He turns to her, and asks. « Aryan Talwar got married ? »

Val rolls her eyes. « Yes,  _ meri jaan _ , he did. His sister Rhaenys apparently insisted that he does, before she dies. She's very sick and she doesn't want him to be alone when she's gone. »

« How do you know all of this ? » He asks her.

« You're not the only one I entertain. » Val answers, and she pats his shoulder, letting her fingers linger there for a second too long. « Even though you're my favourite. »

Jon sits up and rises from the bed, to go to the window. Aryan Talwar.. married.. Jon almost wants to laugh. The favourite son of the famous Arjun Talwar getting a wife while others are starving and barely making ends meet. He thinks about Arjun Talwar, the owner of the local newspaper, and his mother.. his mother.. An idea takes place in his head, and he smiles. It stays on his lips while he looks over the river, the city lights playing on the river, the voice of Lyanna travelling to his ears.

  
  


There's a certain music to the sound of a forge Jon thinks. The hammer falling on the burning metal in rhythm, the coal crackling as it darkens under the flames, the methodic rhythm of burning, hitting, shaping, Jon loves it all. There's a certain stability that he likes, craves, and he's thankful for it. Having spent his whole life here, he has come to be known and respected as a blacksmith, even as an orphan, people know him mostly for his work. Of course, there's talks of his unknown origins and he sees the way people avert their eyes sometimes or how their smile fades when they learn who’s the one who made what they seek to buy, and it never fails to set aflame the ache inside of him but he's grown so used to it after all these years, he barely acknowledges it nowadays.

Jon is hitting the burning steel with his hammer, turning into a flat blade so he doesn't see or hear Rahul walking in and watching him before announcing himself.

« Jon miyaan », Rahul calls out and Jon stops and turns around to greet his friend with a nod before returning to his steel, « we missed you at the meeting yesterday. It's not your usual ways to leave us ! »

« Sorry, Rahul, I went to the festival, » Jon drops the blade to let it cool and smirks at the memory, « did you miss me though ? »

Rahul rolls his eyes « Don't use the sweet talk on me, I am not as stupid as those girls that fall for it and let you break their heart afterwards.» There's a beat in which Jon starts heating up another piece of steel, another sword in the making. « You know, if you want to help us with something other than your swords, you know you can talk at the assembly. People know you, they'd listen to you if you- »

« I am only good at sweet talking women I am afraid. I am not sure my techniques would work on your league. » Jon admits, raising his hammer over and over.

« It's your league too, you're a part of it as much as I am. You're a muslim, we have to stand together if we want to make a stand in favor of the Partition. »

Jon stops his movements. « I told you.. If you want to make a move, you should go talk to the Aryan Talwar, the head of the newspaper, and only then, you'll reach people. »

« I have done that already, Jon ! » Rahul snaps, and Jon can feel his frustration, it's not the same as his, it's as intense but not for the same reasons. « They shut the door in our faces. They're in favor of the Union of the country. They won't do anything for our cause, so we have to do it ourselves. » Rahul waits a second before adding. « You would know if you bothered to come to the meetings. »

Jon watches his friend and realizes that his absence has been noted and that it's not just for show. Rahul really did count on him. Embarrassed, Jon stops his movements and gets closer to Rahul ; putting his hand on his shoulder, he tries to make sure his apology sounds right. « I am really sorry. I promise I'll do better. What can I do to prove you that I am sorry ? »

Rahul raises his eyes at Jon. « You could talk at the meetings. And come with me to try and secure the contracts with Saroj  _ sahab _ . »

Jon rolls his eyes but lets out a chuckle. « Fine, I'll come with you. Maybe Saroj  _ sahab _ will fall for my techniques. »

It's Rahul's turn to roll his eyes and he pushes Jon's hand away from him, but it's a loving gesture and Jon goes back to his scorching metal. Sometimes, the hammer in his hand feels so familiar, he wonders if he was a smith in another life. Probably not, he can't think of anyone loving enough to bury his body and make the last rituals are performed. If he's not loved in this life, why would he be loved in another ?

  
  


Later, as he stands before Saroj  _ sahab _ as the man examines his work, he feels love is an overrated notion. He'll take respect over love any day. It's in the way Saroj  _ sahab _ looks him up and down, the way he sneers when he thinks Jon can't see, it's in the disdain way with which he looks the blade over, it's in the way he speaks with spite, as if Jon isn't worthy of hearing him or even standing in his presence.

« It's good. » Saroj  _ sahab _ says , and Jon wants to grab his throat and squeeze. But he stays put, and clench his fists behind his back and waits for the rest of the spiteful words that he's sure are coming his way. « For a bastard orphan, it's good work I suppose. »

« What does his origins matter ? » Rahul says, and it's the smooth voice he uses when he wants to get something and Jon knows because he uses it just the same, only to a different audience. «If the work is good, why do his roots matter so much ? »

« It matters to me, Rahul. He's an orphan, a bastard.. and on top of that, a muslim. » Saroj  _ sahab _ spits out the truth and Jon digs his nails in his palms just so he doesn't knock his fists against Saroj  _ sahab _ 's jaw. « If I give him the money before he finishes the work, what will that say of me ? And you, Rahul ? I wouldn't expect any less from a muslim, after all and-»

The blood rushes to Jon's ears, he has had more than enough, and his anger flares as he grabs Saroj  _ sahab _ by the collar, bringing him up violently. The old man is surprised but Jon tries to remain calm as he speaks next. « Maybe you should learn how to respect someone's work and not their father's names. But I suppose a notion like this can't be comprehended by a mind as narrow as yours. »

« Jon.. Jon, leave it. » Rahul says and he has a hand on his arms, trying to pull him but Jon sees red, when the old man doesn't lower his eyes. « Jon, please, let it go. » Rahul insists, but how ? How can he just let it go ? All this hatred towards him and his community.. why ? He wishes he knew the answer to this, and something tells him that hurting Saroj  _ sahab _ isn't the answer, so he lets go of the man's collar. Saroj  _ sahab _ falls back in his seat from the violence of Jon's gesture, looking insulted, while Jon turns away to leave, Rahul on his heels. He exists the shop, hearing Saroj _ sahab _ throwing insults at him. As he takes the steps down the shop, he sees Lyanna walking by and he stops in his tracks. He hasn't seen her in a while, he now realizes, he had made sure to avoid the hours where he knew she would be at the haveli. She looks at him, and he knows she knows he's avoiding her, he always does after all. She gives him this look she always does, the one that's full of longing, of sadness, and Jon knows she can hear the insults Saroj  _ sahab _ is shouting at him from his shop, at his community, _ their _ community. Saroj  _ sahab _ yells and Jon can't help but give her a small smile as he stares at her. Not a happy one, not a sad one, just one that says _ see, see what you've done  _ ? And he hopes, in the back of her mind, she'll realize maybe it wasn't the best decision she's ever made. 

  
  


~~

Sansa raises her head once again to look if Aryan is available. She has been wanting to talk to him for a couple of days now, ever since the protestors took their fight to the front of the building, she has wanted to talk to him about it. She knows it's his article about his opinion against the Partition that is causing the protestors to be more vehement, which is putting the newspaper in danger. His father, Raj Talwar, has tried to warn him about the issue. But no, Aryan wouldn't listen, not even to Rhaenys's own warning words, and Rhaenys had then asked Sansa to try and talk to him. Sansa had laughed because why on earth would Aryan Talwar listen to his wife ? They don't even talk to each other at the mansion – Sansa can't call it home, because it's not, it's too big and cold, not the good kind, not the kind that would make her feel warm. So why would he listen to her now ? But she's come up with a plan, all she needs is to find a moment to talk to him.

The opportunity happens before she leaves. Aryan is in his office, finally alone and she grabs her bag, making her way up to the stairs, heading to confrontation. She knocks on the glass door, and he raises his head at her, and stops for a minute and she sees the hesitation on his face, the way he can't hide his unwillingness to let her in – in his office and his life. He finally nods at her to enter and she opens the door, and she almost feels his reluctance at this – or is it her own ?

« I wanted to talk to you about something. »

Aryan nods and Sansa wishes he would make it easier, but she doesn't what she would expect him to know how. He doesn't know her, and she doesn't know him. They're strangers, parts of a compromise neither of them wished to be in.

« I was thinking of protests and I was thinking that maybe we could appease some tension by reaching out to them. »

« We've already talked with the Muslim League, Sansa. They aren't keen to listen to our opinions. » Aryan tells her, and she should have known it wouldn't be easy.

« Because you are not keen on listening to their opinions. If you don't listen, they won't. And we should listen. If we want to remain a peaceful country no matter the path India choose, every side should be heard, don't you think ? »

« What do you have in mind ? » Aryan asks, leaning back in his seat.

« An article. I want to write an article about Dura Mendi, about the town and why it’s so special for its people. » She says and she breathes a little more easily afterwards. « I've heard the people in town yell at muslims, and that's not right. Everywhere in the state, muslims are being shunned and that's not right. People don't like them because they don't understand, and they don't understand because we don't let them speak. I want them to be heard. This time is suffering because of all the division that this newspaper is bringing. And I want us to fix that.»

Aryan watches her carefully for a minute and Sansa tries not to falter under his scrutinizing gaze. She's said her piece, now the decision lies in his hands.

« You've got a kind heart, Sansa. » Aryan says. « It'll get you killed, someday. » His words hit her like a slap, and she is taken aback but only blinks away her confusion, not wanting Aryan to see her doubts. « You can write the article. If it's good, we'll print it. »

Sansa nods, proud that she managed to get Aryan's approval. She bids him goodbye, and leaves his office, and then the newspaper. On her way home, she thinks about the way she should approach this topic. She spends her whole evening writing down questions and key points she wants to mention ; it reminds her of the day she would spend with her father and her brother, Ned Stark taught his children himself, and everything Sansa knows she owes it to her father, and she can't count all the nights Robb and her spent editing their little assignments. She misses it and she wishes he could be here to help her.  _ This is for them _ , Sansa thinks as she closes her notebook and turns off her lamp.

  
  


She arrives at the forge in the late morning the next day, notebook and pen in hand, her small bag on her shoulder. Her sources tells her this is where she can find Rahul Khan who's in charge of the Muslim League. She walks over to the boy upfront to introduce herself.

« Excuse me ? » She grabs the attention of the young boy, he seems to be Arya's age, tall and toned, he's organizing some tools over a makeshift table and Sansa already feels bad for taking his time. «  _ Namaste _ , my name is Sansa , I was wondering if I could talk to Rahul Khan sahab. »

The boy nods and then turns back towards the shop. « Jon  _ bhai _ ! Is Rahul in?»

Sansa looks behind the boy, and sees the man she saw a few days ago as she exited the haveli. She sees his smirk when he notices her but he goes back to his work. She can't help but stare as he raises his strong arm and hits the metal, his bare chest glistening with sweat, and Sansa feels herself getting a little hot as well. It's only the heat coming from the forge, she tells herself, nothing else.

« You can go in, ma'am, Jon will show you. » The young boy tells her, breaking her train of thoughts and she nods at him, whispering a quick  _ thank you _ before going in.

She walks into the forge, pretending she doesn't see the looks the blacksmiths give her as she walks towards Jon. This close, she can see the tan of his skin, and the drops of sweat running down his perfectly toned chest, she can see his semi long hair, the darkness of it, the way some strands stick to his forehead and the nape of his neck. An overwhelming need to know how they feel under her fingertips takes her and she has to shake her head to push it to the side. She's about to talk, ask him where she can find Rahul Khan , because  _ this _ is why she's here, for work, for her article, and not to stare at a man who's been disrespectful to her and took her for a whore, but he beats her to it.

« One meeting didn't satisfy you, and now you've come under false pretenses to ask for more ? » He says, and she recognizes the same taunting tone in his voice, and her previous thoughts are thrown away, replaced by irritation. She wants to speak, tell him that he shouldn't speak to anyone like this, but he stops working to come close to her, and once again, she can't help but stare as he takes off his apron, her words forgotten as he takes a couple of steps closer to her. « I'm working right now, but maybe later... I can fulfill all your desires. » He throws his apron to the side, and raises his chin at her. « But you won't be able to satisfy me. I'll waste my time. »

Maybe it's the pride dripping from his lips, or the arrogance in his eyes as he looks at her, maybe it's the way she suddenly feels warm as he's standing so close to her and she knows she shouldn't, maybe it's none of these reasons, maybe it's all of them, but when Sansa speaks, it's to put him back in his place.

« I'm married. »

« So ? » Jon only raises an eyebrow at her. « I wasn't planning on marrying you. »

Sansa's mouth falls open at his behaviour, in her twenty years she had seen some insolence and disrespect yes, but never like this. She quickly wonders if she's so bad that no one could ever want her for love.  _ No, _ she thinks, this man is just insolent, and she's not here for this.

Regaining her composure, she says « I am here to meet Rahul Khan  _ sahab _ . »

Jon narrows his eyes at her, and starts turning around her, his eyes roaming her body up and down – and if Sansa feels embarrassed for the simple lehenga she chose to wear, she won't let it show. « Why do you want to see Rahul ? »

« Why should I tell you ? » Jon is still turning around her, and she feels like a prey, and he's the hunter, studying her before catching her in his trap.

« Why should I tell you where he is, then ? » As he walks in front of her, she sees his smirk, that playful and teasing smirk, and it only infuriates her even further, but she exhales, trying to play nice.

« I want to write an article on Dura Mendi and its people, hence why- »

« Hence why you went to the haveli in the first place. » Jon finishes her sentence and stops turning around her – Sansa pretends she doesn't notice how he stopped before the seventh turn, how he was turning clockwise, how it brings her back to her own turns around the sacred fire, when the end of her dupatta was tied to Aryan's as part of their marital rites.

« Is this a way to talk to anyone ? » She snaps, getting fed up with his attitude.

« Calling a whore the Taj Mahal doesn't change her fate, nor the truth. » He answers.

« Oh. So you think every women the same ? Do you look at all women the same way ? Like they're cattle and you're here to feast ? » She doesn't know where this anger comes from, but she hates how animated she is, all because of him.

« This is the only way I know how. » He whispers and she sees how his eyes drop to her lips for a second, it's brief but she sees it. He takes one step close, and she can feel his breath on her skin now. « Why don't you try and change it for me ? » He adds seductively, laying the trap for her to step in, but Sansa sees it.

Sansa takes a step back. She's wasting her time here, talking to this men. « This is not why I came here, and I have no such desire. » She turns to leave, but Jon grabs her hand, his grip firm against her skin.

« What are those desires, then ? » He asks, and she wonders if the circular movements of his thumb on her hand are intentional – and why does it feel so familiar ? - « What kind of desire a woman trapped in a marriage can have ? You just have to say the word, I'll make them all true. »

Sansa pulls her hand out of his fingers, not letting her heart scream at the lack of contact. « How.. You're insolent, sir. »

Jon smirks. « Thank you,  _ meri jaan _ . »

Sansa scoffs seeing his attitude. She tries her luck again, « Rahul Khan ? »

She sighs as the corner of Jon's lips twitches and a smile breaks on his face, though she sees how he tries to stop it from growing. He takes a step back and points to the back of the forge, and she doesn't waste another second, she blurts out a  _ thank you _ and walks past Jon to find Rahul.

She walks into the back of the forge, and sees a few men talking together. She approaches quietly and waits for them to stop talking before speaking.

« Rahul Khan ? »

A man with perfectly styled short hair and a short stubble turns to her. His eyes are a light brown, almost honey like, and they're soft as they settle on her. « I'm Rahul. »

She smiles at him. « My name is Sansa Talwar, I'm a journalist for the local newspaper and- » She sees Rahul's eyes harden and he scoffs.

« And what do you want ? » He says, his voice tough and serious. « We've already tried to talk to the newspaper, about our conditions. Most people live in poverty, the political tension surrounding the Partition is forcing many of us to leave and those who stay don't have their jobs. People want to fight for what's theirs, and this fight, it'll lead to Partition. Do you want to write about this ? » Sansa tries to speak, tells him that yes, she does, that's why she's here, but Rahul doesn't let her. « No. So  _ Khuda Hafiz _ . »

He turns his back to her, clearly letting her know that nothing will change his mind. Defeated, Sansa turns around and makes her way out of the forge, passing Jon without a single look for him.

~~

Jon watches as the girl's proposition of an article is rejected by Rahul. He sees the hurt and embarrassment on her face as she walks out of the forge. He looks back at Rahul and feels anger towards his friend. He knows Rahul, knows it's his pride talking, but his pride isn't going to help in this matter, and it's not going to help his plan. This girl works for the newspaper, she could be of help to him, he could use her a little..

« Amesh ! » Jon calls out and Amesh turns around from his spot by the front of the forge. « I'm going for a bit, I'll be back shortly ! »

Amesh waves his hand at him while Jon grabs his kameez and dries himself a little before putting it on. He goes to the sink in a haste to clean himself ; he doesn't know why he's so keen on looking presentable, when he's only going to talk to a girl he doesn't know, whom he just hit on very heavily , and who saw him looking rough and sweaty because of work.. but still, he wipes off the coal and dirt on his face before putting his kameez over his head. He leaves the forge in a hurry and looks to his left and his right. He spots the girl walking down the street, and can't help the smile that grows his lips, as he lets his feet follow her, they're quick and he tries to not look like he's eager but something in him is pulling him towards her, as if a thread was tied to them, and he couldn't help but let himself be pulled towards her. Jon doesn't know why or what it is, and he's not sure why, but he doesn't hate it.

Suddenly, she turns around and her eyes, her piercing blue eyes are on him immediately, and they're full of reproach, there's a fire in them, and he recognizes the hurt. He takes a step back and stops, biting his lips. He thinks about how it looks like, a man following a young woman in this part of town..

« What do you want ? » She asks, and he can hear the hurt in her voice. He's about to speak but she cuts him. « Actually, no, don't answer that. » She starts walking again, and Jon catches up with her pace.

« Is your work here finished ? » He asks and she turns to him with furrowed brows.

« What happened to you all of sudden ? Why do you care ? » She asks.

« It's just.. I heard Rahul and .. He has a quick temper, he's busy all day long with politics and the partition, he's under a lot of pressure. » Jon explains and she nods in understanding. « I don't care however. As long as our town is ours, it's fine by me. » He feels the need to add. 

The girl lets out a dry chuckle. « So you do respect something ! Thank God for that. »

Jon smiles but it's an embarrassed one, and it's uneasy on his lips. « Trusting me is tough, I know that, I'm sorry. »

Sansa looks at him, and Jon hopes she knows he means it. « Why are you so attached to this town then ? Oh no, wait, let me guess. The beautiful girls. »

_ She's teasing me _ , Jon realizes and he smirks when he spots the smirk on her lips. He can't remember the last time someone has gotten under his skin so easily. « Beautiful yes.. and easy too. » He leans in a little bit, and notices how the girl only pulls away just the tiniest bit. « Destiny brought me here. If it weren't for those streets, its people, I would be dead. They taught me everything, that's why they named me Jon, because of the favor they all gave me. And that I am repaying. I could never leave, this is my home. Without these streets, and these alleys, there would be no me, no identity left to have.. » He stops himself, suddenly aware of the fact that he's sharing things he's never shared with anyone, the fact that it's easy to talk to this girl, this girl he doesn't even know. He's seen her twice only and already.. his heart beats peacefully in his chest, a feeling he had never felt in so long, or ever really. And yet, here he is. All because of this girl. He turns towards her, stopping in his walk, and she stops too. « No one knows Dura Mendi better than me. So... » He leaves his unsaid question hanging in the air, an eyebrow raised.

« Sansa. » The girl says.

Sansa.  _ Charm _ .

« Couldn't think of a better fitted name for you,  _ Mash'allah _ ! » He smiles at her, and Sansa smiles at his compliment and something inside Jon is born, and it's unknown but he knows he likes the way it makes him feel. She rolls her eyes at him a little, but she's still smiling and she turns to leave, and again, the pull, this need to be next to her is there again so he quickens his step and keeps walking with her.

« Are you here to find a story or hide yours ? » He asks.

« I'm here to find one. » And she says this with conviction, and Jon almost believes her, but there's something hidden in her eyes and he feels compelled to ask.

« Are you happy ? In your marriage ? » Sansa looks at him, and the disapproving eyes are back on him. « You said you're married, you didn't say you were happy. »

« Does your insolence know any limit ? » She asks.

« Limits are for borders, for lands, not for minds. » Jon answers. « If you have a question, it's better to ask. Not knowing can drive you mad. » He's not sure why he's telling her all of this, and he feels embarrassed by the fact that he's so open. To her. He clears his throat, trying to regain his proud composure. « So away with politics. This place has amazing things, and if you want to see them-.. »

« I do. » She answers quickly and Jon smiles at her eagerness.

He studies for a second. Her blue eyes, those big blue eyes, they look so sad, what made them so sad ? Jon wonders. But there's courage in them too, he wonders where that comes from too.« Are you really that brave to step into my world ? »

« I don't have anything to lose. » She speaks with sadness in her voice, and Jon wonders, he really does, what is her story, what happened to her before, before now, that made her so willing to take no risk. « Also, I'm sure your world is more interesting than you. » He smiles bigger at her teasing him.

« Next friday. Meet me in the valley, at the arena. » He tells her and it's a little forward, more than he's used to, even for him, and he's not sure why, but he needs to see how far she's willing to go, how much she's willing to see.

They've reached her carriage, and she stops in front of it, and he feels her uneasiness to his proposition. He opens to the door to her carriage, but she doesn't get in immediately and he can hear her thinking from where he stands. « Don't worry, without consent or a good price, I don't touch women. » He doesn’t know why he feels the need to reassure her but he still does, he needs her to know he won’t hurt. Not directly at least. 

Sansa nods, and Jon leans on the small door and stares at her. A part of him thinks he could stare at her forever. « I'll be there. » Her voice is small, but strong somehow, and she gets into the carriage and Jon closes the door behind her and taps on it to signal the driver. He steps aside as the carriage starts and Jon stays to watch it leave, a smile on his face. It grows bigger when he sees Sansa leaning out of the window and looking back at him. A warmth spreads inside him when he spots her own smile, and if his steps are lighter on his way back to the forge, then it's not because of that. And if he smiles the rest of the afternoon, then it's not because of that either.

~~

Sansa steps in the area reserved for the women and finds a spot at the front. They're very high and she feels light headed when she looks down towards the open pit. The whole arena is full and people are placing bets left and right and it's loud and messy and a part of her thinks Arya and Robb would love this, but she still doesn't know what's going to happen. She came alone, and she doesn't want to appear stupid by asking one of the women here. Soon enough, there are drums starting and the beat is slow, and the whole crowd stops talking and there's a tension rising amongst all the people present, and Sansa can feel it seeping into her bones as well. Suddenly, a man enters the pit. He walks slowly into the open space and Sansa recognizes Jon's frame and she's suddenly overwhelmed with fear. His chest is bare and he's only wearing salwar pants with a red belt. The crowd cheers when he comes into view and Sansa can't feel it in her to join them. She notices a gate being opened on the other side of the arena and a bull comes charging into the open space. Sansa sees Jon untying the belt around his waist, and it's not a belt she realizes, it's a piece of red fabric and Jon waves it in the air, and the bull starts charging towards Jon, who manages to avoid it by an inch. Sansa's heart has stopped in her chest. The dance between Jon and the bull continues and a few times, Sansa thinks she's going to watch him die, especially when the bull starts hammering his hooves on Jon's as the man tries desperately to escape it. He does eventually, and the crowd cheers him on, but Sansa can't. All she sees is the blood that keeps appearing over his body.

Suddenly, Jon starts running towards the bull, and Sansa just stops breathing when he grabs its horns and uses it as leverage to get onto the bull's back. But the bull starts to throw his back legs up in the air, and Jon is thrown off against the stone wall and he falls on the ground, and the crowd goes completely quiet as Jon lies there, motionless. The only sound present is the huffing and puffing of the bull in the pit. Everyone's holding their breath, on the edge of their seat, waiting to know if Jon is still conscious, or if the bull gave him a bigger fight than he was ready for. But she sees Jon slowly moving, slowly but surely, he rises and the crowd erupts in joy, and Sansa finally breathes again. But it's only a short time off before Jon moves towards the bull again, and this time he aims for the bull's back immediately and he holds onto it, and the crowd starts to count and Sansa looks around, not understanding, but listens as they all count to seven and then Jon jumps from the bull's back. People yell and scream and cheer but she doesn't join them, she can't, not when her heart is still trying to find a regular beat, not when her whole body is shaking from fear. And it sets her off, she leaves the stands, the whole time wondering why Jon asked her here, why she needed to see this. And most importantly, why she let herself be consumed by fear for a man she barely knows.

When she finds Jon, he's by the river, gathering water in his hands to clean his wounds. He's alone so she goes to him, and the closer she gets, the angrier she gets. Because now, as she gets closer, she can see the wounds on his shoulder, on his back, and when he turns to her, hearing her nearing footsteps, she can see his split lip and the cut on his forehead. Half of her wants to help him and tend to his wounds, and it's a half she wasn't aware of before today, it's one that's familiar, and something tells her she would know how to mend the skin, how to heal him, how to fix him. But the other half of her wants to slap him, hit him for being so stupid, so reckless. She listens to that half today.

She shoves him hard when she gets close to him, not letting him speak first. « Are you insane ? »

Jon seems surprised by her question and her actions, but he recovers quickly. « Oh, we're that intimate already ? I would have liked a notice so I could have dressed more appropriately. »

She's not here to play games with him, she doesn't have the patience for it today. All she wants is to hurt him. She shoves him again, using all her strength to push him. « Why did you call me here ? I didn't need to see this ! »

« Didn't you want a story ? » He asks and he takes a step closer to her, and he's too close, she can smell the blood on him, and something else. He smells like burning metal, like a crackling fire, and something else she can't quite pinpoint. « Here's your first glimpse of one. Didn't you like it ? Why ? Did you get scared ? » His eyes drop to her lips again. « Why ? »

« You could've died. » She says simply, like that covers it, like that's the only reason why she's so angry with him.

« Death is my right. A bastard like me has no aim, no goal , no purpose. We have nothing to lose.. unlike you. I'm not scared of death, people who are afraid of dying are that way because they're greedy. »

Sansa shakes her head at his words. How can someone so young be so resigned ? How can he just accept that his life can't amount to more than what it sets out to be ? « The day you fall in love, that day you'll become greedy, because you'll have a goal, a purpose, because you'll find something worth living for, and then.. you'll start fearing death. »

Jon scoffs. « Don't hold your breath on that thought, _ meri jaan _ . This wish of yours, for me to find someone worth living for, it won't happen. This is my way and this is how it will always be ! »

Furious, Sansa groans. « Argh, you're so stubborn ! I've never seen anyone as stubborn as you ! » She turns on her heels and leaves, not wanting to be near him for one more second. She's already quite far when she hears him call her.

« See you back in Dura Mendi,  _ meri jaan _ ! »

She turns back to him and she can see he's grinning and it only angers her even more and she doesn't even want to answer and she just keeps on walking. The further she'll be from him, the better. It's a lie, she knows, in the end, the distance will only remind her of everything they could've had. 

  
  


She's coming out of the office, on her way to meet Priya so they can ride together back to the mansion when she spots Jon leaning against a wall on the other side of the street. She wants to think he's not here for her, that she's mistaken, that she has it wrong, that it's nothing and just a coincidence really. But it's his eyes that draws her attention, the way they're set on her , the way a smile appears when she notices him, the way he raises his chin a little and nods at her from where he stands. He is here for her. He is, and Sansa can't help but feel giddy at the thought, the thought that someone is here for her, only her, it brings her feelings she had forsaken a long time ago. She nods lightly at him, it's small and she makes sure that Priya doesn't see it, and she doesn't and Sansa breathes a little easier. She's not sure why she feels like she's doing something wrong, like she shouldn't be nodding at a man from across the street, she knows it's wrong, but it doesn't feel wrong to her. This is the most right she has felt in a long time, and maybe that's why she nods at him, that's why she smiles back at Jon. And when he raises his hand towards his forehead, in greeting, she does the same, even though it's not the greeting she's accustomed to give, but somehow, she feels like she's going to do a lot of things she's not going accustomed to.

  
  


And the next day, she walks up the street leading to the forge and she finds Jon outside, shaping a small dagger, and he looks up, finding her eyes as he does, and she finds it strange, how she's still far away from him, far enough that he can't possibly have heard her arrival by her footsteps, not with all the noises of the streets. But still, he looks up before she reaches him and she stops, and looks back, and they stare at each other for a while before Jon stands up straight.

« I knew you'd come back. » He says with a smirk.

« Why, did you miss me ?» Sansa teases him as she closes the last remaining steps to reach him.

Jon rolls his eyes but the smirk doesn't leave his lips, only grows and Sansa likes the sight in front of her. Jon lets out a sigh, as he starts hitting the metal again. « What story would like me to tell, today ? »

Sansa gets her notebook out of her bag along with her pen, and shrugs. « Anything you'd like. » Jon gives her a look, and she doesn't miss the way his eyes travel up and down her body and how he raises an eyebrow and it's her turn to sigh now. « The story, Jon. » Sansa pushes.

Jon shakes his head, and sets his eyes on his blade. « Whatever you say, _ meri jaan _ . »

« You have to stop calling me that. » Sansa says.

Jon takes a step closer. « Do I ? » She nods. « Why ? »

« It's not proper. » She says, trying to not focus on his fragrance ; he doesn't smell bad, she thinks, he doesn't smell of blood or dirt anymore, no, it's a fruity fragrance. She wonders if it's a conscious choice of his or not.

« Fine. » He says, with a loud sigh, and he looks like a child then, with the way he rolls his eyes in exasperation, but the moment is short, gone before it has chance to stay. «  _ Rani sa. _ »

Sansa wants to tell him off, she wants to tell him it's even worse to call her that – he can't, she can't let him, not when the word makes her feel so good, not when it feels so familiar to her ears for some reason – but Jon starts speaking again, and the words die on her tongue.

  
  


They meet almost every day, sometimes Sansa can't, but on the days she can, she usually spends a couple of hours in the late morning together. Jon tells her about the town, about the stories of the alleys, and the shops and its people. He tells her about the upcoming festivals and what the town likes to do for those, she learns about the stories which went on before she moved here, and before she was even born. She asks Rhaenys if she can lend her their camera so she can take some pictures and Rhaenys agrees gladly, so Sansa starts to take it on some mornings and one day, she gets to take a photograph of Jon as he exits the mosque. She hasn't technically been waiting for him, no, not really, but she had been on her way to meet the office and had thought, why not wait for him ? She could tell he had been surprised to see her, but he had smiled and she had smiled back and then went on as usual.

After a few weeks, he starts to take her outside of the town, they take walks near the river, even in the valley, and their talks become less about her article and more about each other. She learns of his loyalty and kindness towards his friends, she learns of his carefulness towards his work, and his love for it, she learns of his moods and his temper, witnessing an argument between him and Saroj- _ ji _ , the master in arms of the town, and that day, as they walk in the valley, the stillness of the mountains surrounding them, he doesn't speak, and she wishes she could reach out and soothe the tension. They stop by the stream flowing through the river and she doesn't know how long they stay there, in utter silence, but she writes in her notebook and he throws rocks into the water.

« Can you sing for me ? » He asks after a while.

She doesn't ask why, why he asks that of her, she just complies and he listens as she sings the lullaby her mother uses to sing when she was a child, it makes her think of her family, of all the ones she's left back in her hometown, of her siblings and how much she misses them. She doesn't look at him when she sings, but she can feel his eyes on her. She ends the song, blinking back tears, and only then, does she turns to Jon. His light grey eyes are still on her, and there's a softness in them, and she's surprised to find it in his.

« Thank you, Sansa. » He tells her and he bows his head slightly and she feels the flush creeping on her cheeks, and her heart beats a little faster in her chest, so she looks away, without saying anything and goes back to look at the stream running next to them.

  
  


She drops her article, finished and edited, on Aryan's desk before she leaves for her music lesson. Lyanna seems to be in a good mood today, because she's smiling as Sansa sings the song she's practiced for weeks. When she hits the last note, Lyanna is staring at her, her brows knitted.

«What's changed ? »

Sansa doesn't understand. « Nothing. Nothing's changed, I didn't- »

« Not in your voice. » Lyanna interrupts her. « Your heart. »

Sansa doesn't answer, doesn't voice the fear that's been creeping up on her ever since that day in the valley. She smiles at Lyanna, and composes her voice. « No, nothing's changed. »

It's a lie, and she doesn't think Lyanna believes it. And Sansa knows it's a lie when she exits the haveli and she spots Jon on the small boat she uses every day to get to the haveli. She stops as she sees him and he immediately rises when she comes into his view. He's waiting for her, and like that day, so many weeks ago, when she found him looking at her by a building, she feels giddy but the feeling doesn't live long as it resonates with Lyanna's words in her mind. Sansa braces herself and goes down the front stairs of the haveli, making her way to Jon –  _ always to Jon _ – and she finds herself trying to not run to him, she tries to steady her steps. She's on her last couple of steps when Jon extends his hand for her to take and she does, and he helps her get on the boat. It shakes a little as they're both standing but he holds her hand and they're close and they're never this close, never like this. But she doesn't hate it, she lets him hold her, lets her indulge into his warm touch, lets her eyes get lost in his, and she loves when his eyes don't leave her. And yes, maybe Lyanna is right, maybe something has changed, and maybe she can lie to herself a little longer about that fact. A little longer, as long as Jon's eyes are on her and not just a memory, as long as he holds her hand in his, the lie can live. Let this boat be their bubble, she thinks, let's forget the world exists, just this long. But the world does exist, outside of the bubble but Sansa forgets it for a moment and that's why she doesn't notice Lyanna's eyes on them, and the fear on the older woman's face. No, all Sansa can see is Jon, and the fond expression he gives her. She doesn't have to care about the world for now, not when Jon is looking at her like that, like no one has ever looked at her before.

~~

Jon watches Sansa's carriage leave after walking her back from her lesson. She doesn't look back at him from the small window, but he knows there's a smile on her face, a smile that matches his own.

« Isn't she the journalist girl ? » Rahul's voice startles him and Jon turns around to find his friend behind him. Rahul is watching the carriage too as it leaves and Jon feels suddenly restless. For weeks, no one had commented on Sansa being at the forge, or him spending as much time with her ; he knows people notice, he sees it in the way they look at him and then at her, and then avert their eyes. He knows what they think, that he's using her, that she's just another girl, he's going to use her then leave her. He hates it, he hates that they're right.

« Yes, she is. » He says once the carriage has left his sight.

« Just leave her, _ bhai _ . » Rahul says as they start walking side by side.

« I will, one day. » The words are painful on his tongue.  _ Not yet though _ , that he doesn't say, but he thinks it all the same. He can’t leave her yet, not when she proves herself to be more important to his plan than he first imagined.

« Please, don't use her like the other ones, she's a nice girl. » Rahul states, as if Jon didn't know already.

Jon knows Sansa is a nice girl, he knew it from the first moment he set his eyes on her. But he can't admit as much, not to Rahul, not just yet, not when his plan is doing so well. « Too much of a nice one. That's probably why I don't have any bad thoughts about her. »

« I heard she's married. » Rahul says and Jon hears the warning in his tone before he even continues. Jon nods in agreement, schooling his expression. « I hope you know what you're doing. »

« Don't worry about me. I have everything under control. » He says, looking straight ahead. He's not sure who he's trying to convince. Rahul, or himself.

  
  


Sansa and he are walking side by side on their way to the theatre. He had asked her this morning if she'd like to come with him to see this play. It hadn't been planned, he hadn't planned on asking her, on spending this evening with her. But he had taken one look at her, in her pink anarkali suits, looking like a dream and the words had just come out, as if his heart had taken control over his body before his brain could register his feelings. And still, even now, as he leads her across the theater seats, it's his heart that guides his words, as he shares his childhood memories with her.

« I remember when the theater was first built, I was only ten ! » Jon says as he proceeds in the middle row and then takes a seat. He has a moment of hesitation where he's not sure whether or not he can let her have the handrest in the middle, but quickly decides she can have it – only if it means his heart will stop racing at the proximity of their bodies. « The whole town was busy and it's a good source of distraction for all the workers ! »

« Why aren't you on the stage then ? » Sansa asks, and her teasing him has become so familiar in such a short time, it's strange how easily she got under his skin, and how he doesn't mind. « I thought you'd be involved in this spectacle as well. Although , I do admit it's not as thrilling as a bull fight.. »

_ She's never going to let this go _ , he thinks with a sigh. He turns to her and leans in so he speaks directly into her ear, and if he sees her shiver when his breath reaches her skin, he'll pretend it's not real. « I'm already a main actor in your life, isn't this enough ? »

Sansa doesn't answer him or look at him, she just stares straight ahead, and he sees her gulp slightly, and again he pretends it's not because of him, not because of how close they are. He doesn't think about how if she were to turn to him, he would find her lips only inches away, within reach, he doesn't think about how they would feel against his – probably soft - , he doesn't think about how he wants to run his hand through her long brown hair, he doesn't think about how he'd like to hold her hand that's resting on the armrest, feel her fingers intertwined with his, see if they fit like he wants them to. But no, he can't, that's not possible, even if he was someone else and not playing this part with her, she's still a married woman, and even a bastard like him has that kind of respect.

~~

She has barely dropped her bag on the floor next to her that Aryan walks to her desk and drops her draft on it.

« This isn't worth printing. » He says simply before turning around and walking back to his office. Sansa's heart sinks in her chest as her eyes fall on the sheets of paper, and she takes them, going over the numerous red marks and edits made by Aryan. Disappointment doesn't begin to cover how she feels as she reads the notes over and over ; she's not sure why she can't take her eyes off of it, why she can hear the words being screamed in her head.

_ Too long. Irrelevant. Not important. _

The whole day she tries to think of something else, tries desperately to focus on her own editing, but nothing works and she ends up frustrated with the drafts she reads, as they're only the reminder of the talent she doesn't have, she thinks. She goes home with a bitter feeling in her mouth ; the voice at the back of her head reminds her that she has a singing lesson, but she pushes it to the side. She doesn't care today. She doesn't want to sing, she doesn't want to see Lyanna and hear her spiteful remarks or see Val lurking in the background. She doesn't even want to see Jon and hear his teasing words and see his smirk.. No, not today, she can't handle it. So she leaves with Priya and goes straight to her room, not wanting to talk to Rhaenys or anyone for that matter. Only when she's in her bedroom does she let her tears fall, and she hates that she cries for something so small as this, but she had put so much in herself in this article, she thinks back on all the days with Jon, spent discovering the town, its people, understanding the story behind each streets.. all for nothing.

This wouldn't have happened if she had never agreed to this wedding to Aryan. If she had stayed in her village, with her family, none of this would have happened. None of it. She wonders what her family is doing now, do they miss her as much as she misses them ? Do they think of her as much as she thinks of them ? Do they feel her absence as deeply as she does ? Do they still turn to her to talk to her, forgetting she's not there ? She wonders and wonders, and the long doesn't go. She remembers Aryan telling her if she wanted to, he could annul the marriage if she wanted to. She knows he doesn't love her, and she doesn't love him. Her heart belongs to someone else now... She could always ask Aryan.. but what if Jon doesn't like her the way she likes him ? That's a risk.. and then, what would happen to her ? Nobody would take her in, not even her family if she were to annul her marriage and then be rejected by someone who likes to play with girls..

No, that's not an option right now, so she dries her tears and checks the clock before getting up from her bed. Surely by now, Aryan has come home. He must be in his office, as he always is. Her steps are light as she walks down the stairs, making her way to the office where she knows Aryan spends most of his evenings. She can't ask him to annul the marriage, but she can ask him why. Why did he let her write this article if he wasn't going to print it in the first place ? Was it always his intention ? Was he always going to tell her no, let her kite fly high and then cut the string loose and watch her drop to the floor lifeless ?

She's about to knock on the closed doors when she hears the voice of Arjun Talwar, and she stops dead in her tracks.

«-to commit, Aryan. Otherwise, she'll go and find love outside of this marriage too. And then what ? Can't you already see what people will say about our family ? »

Are they.. Are they talking about her ? Sansa wonders. She moves to the side, so if either of them were to pass by the door or open them suddenly, she wouldn't be found.

« That's all you care about. What people will say.. And yet, you didn’t think about what they would say when you had an affair!» She hears the spiteful tone of Arjun and she thinks she's never heard him speak that way. Arjun is always so calm,so reserved.. This doesn't sound like him, but it's his voice that speaks the next words and it knocks the air out of Sansa. « Not everybody is like you, Abba. »

« Don't talk about things you know nothing about. I got engaged without my consent, I was trapped in a loveless marriage. That's why I seeked love outside of this union. Don't let Sansa make the same mistake. »

So they  _ are _ talking about her, Sansa realizes. But... Arjun sahab ? Having an affair ?

« As I said Abba, not everyone is like you. You made one mistake, and Ammi spent her whole life thinking it was her fault. She was even ready to accept your illegitimate child. But you couldn't even accept him.. »

« It's not the issue at stake here, Arjun. I remind you that we're a minority here, and the Muslim League is still at our door, they're getting stronger everyday. Printing Sansa's article could have been a step in the right direction to regain their trust. You know that article could have helped the newspaper but your pride is stopping you from admitting the truth. »

« I'll run from the truth as long as I can. After all, you taught me that. »

« Then, learn from my mistakes and don't hold other people responsible for them. »

« If you don't learn from your mistakes, why should I ? » Sansa hears a chair gliding against the floor and she can almost picture Aryan rising from his seat, his eyes full of fury, matching his tone. « You spent your whole life running from the truth, from your mistakes, why should I do any different ? » Aryan scoffs. « If you had just accepted to legitimize a child, then maybe our family wouldn't have fallen apart. But your arrogance is bigger than your mistakes. It's not this boy's fault in any way, but if I were to meet him now, I would hate you even more. You destroyed our lives, you destroyed Ammi's life, and yes, that's on you, but he's the reason. So don't give me unsolicited advices on how to handle my relationships. »

Sansa hears footsteps coming closer so she hides quickly in the shadows and watches as Aryan exits his office, and crosses the hall to walk upstairs. She watches him, everything she's heard still ringing in her mind, each word echoing, trying to make sense, as she watches Aryan's frame walk away. She tries to focus on the conversation she’s overhead, and not on the fact that Aryan is walking to Rhaenys's room, and not his own.

~~

Jon is upset, although upset is an understatement compared to how he feels right now. He's mad, he's furious. His blood is boiling in his veins as he tries to calm down by praying. But nothing works, not even the usual words on his lips calm his shaking body. All because of Sansa. She hadn't come today, he had waited for her at the haveli, waiting for her on the small boat to bring her back to the village then walk her back to the carriage that'd take her home. He had waited, and waited, long after the sun had set over the river and the town, long enough that Val found him on the last steps of the haveli.

« Waiting for your new toy ? » She had said, her voice full of disdain and envy, but Jon hadn't answered. « She probably got bored of you, and us. It's what rich people do anyway, it always happens. We're only a past time for them, so they can have a good conscience. »

Jon hadn't bothered to answer her or let her know her words didn't mean anything. Because Sansa wasn't like that, she wasn't like the others, she wasn't like the typical rich people they saw roaming in town. No, Val was lying. Maybe something had happened to her ? But surely he would have known.. right ? Whatever reasons she had to not meet him today, he was angry about it, and she'd better have a good reason to give him when they see each other next time. Because, yes, as upset as he feels, he knows he'll take one look at her and his anger will leave him. That's Sansa and the power she has over him.

A knock at his door drags him away from his contemplations, and he goes to answer it. It's surely Rahul about to ask him to come to another meeting and Jon prepares the excuse he's going to give his friend, because he can't deal with politics tonight, no, not tonight, his plan can wait for one night. Or so he thinks, before he opens his door and sees Lyanna standing in front of him. His body and brain react instantly at the sight of her, like a switch has been flicked and all his previous thoughts leave him and he schools his expression to a stoic one.

« Have courtesans been reduced to meet their customers in their homes now ? I'm sorry, you've come to the wrong address. » He says simply before pushing the door shut but Lyanna stops him, a hand on the wooden door, keeping Jon from closing it.

She takes a few steps in his room, and Jon sighs. Is his past ever going to leave him alone ? « You need to stay away from Sansa, Jon. » 

At this, he turns to the older woman. « Why are you so concerned about Sansa ? »

« Do you know who she's married to ? » Lyanna asks and Jon lowers his eyes. Of course he does, how could he not ? It’s the main reason he’s decided to become so close to her. And while doing so.. other feelings came to play. « She's not at fault in this matter, Jon. »

« And neither was I. » He snaps, spitting the truth out. « And still, I'm paying for your mistakes. »

Lyanna shakes her head, sadness and pain written all over her face. « You're using Rahul to provoke people about the newspaper, to cause protests, make the people revolt, and I have watched you do it, but haven't said anything... And now, you're using Sansa as a tool to get to this family, to make it implode from inside. She's a nice girl, why should she be punished for the sins of others ? »

Jon smirks, and slowly shakes his head. « No, not others. She's being punished for your sins..  _ ammi _ . » [ ed :  _ ammi _ = mother ]

Lyanna takes a step back at Jon's words, and he revels as shock and dread take over her face. He had never called her that before, never with that much hate at least ; the last time he had called her, called for her, had been when she had dropped him at the blacksmith's door, begged the man to keep him, a four years old child. He remembers watching her leave and never looking back for him, he remembers how hoarse his voice had turned as he kept screaming for hours on end, how his tears hadn't ceased for days. He remembers it all like it was yesterday, it's that pain that drives him every day, everything he does is for that four years old Jon who got left like a broken thing on the side of the road.

« You fell in love with a married man, had a child with him and then, when he didn't want you anymore, you left that child on the streets to die. » Jon doesn't hide his hatred, she deserved much more of it and what he's showing her is only an ounce of everything he feels.

« Don't say that.. I was only seventeen, and in love. And still to this day, it was a mistake on my part to believe he felt the same, or that he would leave his wife for me, the courtesan.. » Lyanna tries to justify herself but Jon doesn't believe it. People always find excuses when they know they're guilty after all.

« Mistakes made knowingly aren't mistakes, it's just dishonesty. » Jon says.

« My love had turned me selfish, as love does.» Lyanna continues, and her words only fuel Jon's anger more. It's too late for excuses now. « I thought the child would bring us closer, but it only pulled us further away from one another. I thought it was the shame of the child that made him run away, I thought... if I gave you away, then he'd come back. But then I understood, he wasn't running away from the shame of you, but from me. I came to get you afterwards but you didn't want me anymore and- »

« Discarded things tend to decay, _Ammi_. » Jon interrupts her. « Just like our relationship. I had to survive, found myself, and because of you, I did that on my own. I wasn't going to stay where you wanted me to, waiting for you. And now I have no reason to come back to you besides to perform the last rites. » He'll lie if he says the pain on Lyanna's face doesn't hurt him too, but maybe then, she'll understand. « Arjun Talwar gave my share of wealth, of respect and dignity to his legitimate son, so in return, I'm going to take his daughter in law away. I've got nothing to lose after all. What's a bastard to do anyway ? We have no purpose in this world anyway, no family to curse us when we cause wrong, no one to trust us, or want us.. All my life, I've heard their taunts, I've heard what they've called me behind my back as I walk by. But enough of it now. The girl he brought home to continue his lineage, his perfect legacy.. I'll use her to destroy his little family. »

Lyanna grabs his shoulders and shakes him. « Then what, Jon ?! That's not how you're going to get your father or your childhood back ! » Jon pulls away from her grip and moves a couple of steps back, out of her reach. « That's not how you'll earn respect. Wipe off the hatred in your eyes, and maybe then, you'll be able to see the love in Sansa's eyes. Your desire for revenge has made you blind. In the act of destroying your father, you're destroying yourself ! »

« I accept it all. I'll destroy everything. Him, his family, me, I don't care. And he won't even see it coming, he won't even know what happens to him until his empire collapses on him and the ground opens and swallows him. The man who didn't even want my existence will come to  _ me _ to beg for mercy. And then, I'll set his hopes on fire that even the fires of hell won't begin to compare to my wrath. He'll repay for his sins, and if for that, Allah decides to curse my fate, then so be it. I'll accept it gladly with open arms. »

Lyanna shakes her head in disbelief. « It's my fault.. I left you, and didn't give you enough love. That's why your heart is so dark. » She tries to touch his face, but Jon pushes her hands away.

« It's too late for me, _Ammi_. All you can worry about now is your own soul. » 

  
  



	6. 4. india - part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi babyloves, I'm very sorry for the delay on the update, work has gotten in the way and I've been obsessed with a boyband ( PRETTYMUCH if you want to know) and life has just been really hectic the last few weeks! I hope you all are staying safe and at home!! In the meantime, here's the second part of this chapter set in India! Sorry for any mistakes, this wasn't beta'd and my eyes are so tired ! Anyways, Enjoy the chapter!

The Muslim League meetings are always long, as men like to talk afterwards and ask what are the next moves for them, and Jon is leaning on a wall, watching as Rahul sweet-talks employees from the newspaper. The plan is well in action and Jon tries to fight the smirk on his lips as he sees Rahul play his cards well. All these moments spent planting the seeds in Rahul's brain, to have him bring the issue to the newspaper. The seeds have been spread, and the plans are laid out, so well that Jon can already see his father's empire crumbling. And this, this is all he's ever wanted.

A flash of brown copper catches his eyes, and he turns to see Sansa crossing the street, and she's heading towards their group. He pushes himself off the wall, and feels his heart quickening in his chest. What is she doing here ? Jon thinks, and his hands are shaking when he meets her eyes, the blue eyes he's dreamed of seeing for days, and he has to clench them into fists to stop the shaking to spread in his whole body. But he can't stop his feet from taking him to her, they have a mind of their own it seems, because soon enough he finds himself in front of her and he stops her as she's about to greet him, her beautiful blue glistening with a bright shimmer in the daylight.

« What are you doing here ? » He snaps at her and her eyebrows join in confusion. « You shouldn't be here. »

« I .. I heard about the meeting, I thought I could- »

« You're not a muslim, and we don't want you here. » Jon interrupts her again and he grabs her elbow to drag her away from the crowd. She tries to stir away from him, but Jon keeps a firm grip on her skin and he stops once they're shielded from the sun, and from view, by a wall.

« Jon, let me go ! » Sansa protests and he does, and she takes a step away from him and there's clear fear in her eyes and he hates to see it, but he knows it has to stay. He can't have her interfering in his plan, not when everything is working perfectly, not when he's already so … moved by her.

« I am sorry I scared you. » Jon says and it's a whisper, and the truth. She looks at him for a while, just looks and doesn't say a word. And he stays there, under her scrutinizing gaze, unmoving and he's never felt more bare in his life; usually he would have fled, run for his life, but he still doesn't move.

« Why are you angry with me ? » She asks, and the fear is gone from her eyes, only concern and it scares him, it scares him how good Sansa is at reading him.

« I'm not angry with you. » He answers, and that's the truth too.

« Then why are you like this ? »

« I .. » Could he tell her ? Could she help him if he were to tell her everything ? Jon wonders. No, she wouldn't, someone like Sansa would never understand. She doesn't know what it's like to grow up as a bastard, to have everything you're owed taken away from you. Family, respect, dignity... love. « I didn't mean to hurt you. I really didn't. »

« And yet, you are. » Sansa says, and she moves to leave but Jon blocks her exit by putting his hand on the wall, right in the way of Sansa. She stops and doesn't turn to look at him.

« I waited for you. » He says, and his eyes lower to the ground, he can't face her, he can't let her see the disappointment he had felt reappear on his face. « Three days ago. I waited for you at the haveli.. You weren't there. »

His voice almost breaks at the end, and it hates it, he hates how weak it sounds, and for a second, he hates her too, he hates that she's the reason for it. But he hates himself more, for not locking his heart tight enough in his chest.

«Is that why you're so angry ? » Sansa says and he can feel his eyes on her, and he knows he has to face her, he knows he has to. He's strong, he's a bastard, he's faced hunger and adversities worse than his wounded pride, he can face Sansa Talwar.

« What if it is ? » He raises his head and he puts on his bravest front, readies his armour, bracing herself for her next words.

« Then I am sorry. » She says and she looks so nice, so gentle, that Jon's whole façade crumbles under her stare, and he wants to hold her in his arms, and tell her she doesn't need to apologize, not to him, because one look at her and he'll forgive her anything.

He sighs. This is not good. Why is he so weak when it comes to her ?

« The kite festival starts tomorrow. » Sansa speaks. « Can we go ? »

Jon nods almost before she finishes speaking, and he hates it, hates how his body screams for her, yearns to hold her close. But it can't be. He can't have what he wants, bastards never have what they want. That's why he drops his arm that was held out and watches as she leaves without another word. He watches, motionless, frozen in place, the rapid beat of his heart ringing in his ear, his mind wondering if he'll ever be able to bear the sight of her leaving. No he won't, he knows, even when in the end, her leaving him means freedom and his downfall.

~~

Sansa is watching the kids build their kites and decorate them down in the streets while she's leaning on the rail, a smile on her lips. She wonders if Rickon and Bran and Arya are having a contest this year, she wonders if her father and Robb helped in the festivities for the hometown like every year. She thinks about her siblings dancing and singing as they race to catch the kites and she's taken by a longing for them, for home, for freedom. She's a little free though, here, in Dura Mendi. She's standing there, a little free, on this roof, and looking up at all the colourful kites already flying high, she wonders if this is the most free she’ll ever feel. 

« What was the kite festival like in your hometown ? » Jon's voice startles her slightly, but it's soft to her ears. She doesn't turn to him, lets herself think about her family for another minute, watching the kites.

« Grand. The whole village was singing and dancing. We had races at the end of the day to catch the fallen kites. As a child, I wished I could be a kite myself and fly away. »  
« Most kites fly away and lose themselves and never fully return home. »

His words hit her and she thinks about Aryan and his half brother he's never met.. Arjun Talwar looked for happiness outside of his marriage and lost himself in the past. If she was to have an affair.. would she lose herself too? And then what would happen to her ? Would she find her way back home ?

« Is Rhaenys Talwar really going to die ? » Jon speaks again, and this time, she sees the ghost of a feeling on his face, but it's only a second and then it's gone. It looked like worry almost.

« She is.. » Sansa says and her heart aches at the thought. « She doesn't have much time.. »

Jon scoots closer to her. « And then, what happens after she's dead ? You'll sit on her throne and take the place of lady of the house and your husband will finally give you the respect you deserve as his wife ? And then what- »

« The kite is cut ! » A cheer erupts from down the streets and Sansa turns to see the children and a group of men jump in excitement, a welcome relief from Jon’s harsh words.

« This festival really makes me miss home. I always saw kites as hope, freedom.. Now I only see fallen kites. »

« People love flying their kites, but more than flying their own kite, they enjoy cutting other's. » Jon says and there's the disdain she's grown accustomed to.

« Do you only look for flaws and faults in people ? » She asks him.

Jon turns his body fully to her and she feels embarrassed that his attention is completely on her but she had missed it. « If you lived my life, maybe you'd understand why there's so much darkness around me. People have failed me too many times for me to trust that easily. »

« Ordeals are a part of everyone's life Jon, but being bitter about them will poison our lives and won't leave room for the good things. When someone else's failure feel like victory to us, then we're the biggest failure after all. »

Something changes in his posture, it shifts his whole body and something appears in his eyes, as if he's realizing something. And for a second, she wonders. She wonders if Jon feels it too, she wonders if his heart beats a little faster when she's near, she wonders if he breathes a little easier when she's next to him, she wonders if he thinks about her before sleep takes him every night. She looks at him, and he doesn't avert his eyes for once, and she wonders.

« Have you truly never been in love, Jon ? » It's a risk to ask, he probably won't answer truthfully but she has to ask. She has to know.

« I race with the kites I am afraid, rani sa, but I am too high hence they can never cut me loose. » And he leans back a little, rising his chin a little higher, but she knows him enough to know it's only a defense mechanism, he's lying and protecting himself. And that she understands, she has to lie everyday at work, put on a mask, and be someone else. The only moments of relief are when she's with him.

« And you've never wanted to come down ? For anyone ? » And she's the one leaning in, closing the space between them by an inch, and Jon seems to move, an inch closer too, and she almost finds it funny how natural it feels, how natural this magnetic pull between them is. She looks up at him, his grey eyes staring right into her, and he gets closer, and closer and she lets him, doesn't move, and she can feel his warm breath on his cheeks and she closes her eyes in anticipation. She doesn't need to see him to feel him leaning closer. It's here, a second away from happening, and something inside her stirs. Closer, her heart screams. A gentle touch. A lover’s kiss. That’s all she wants. To be held with care for a few seconds and for it to mean everything. Maybe she'll remember this one. She wants this moment to matter, she wants to remember.

But maybe Jon doesn't, because the next words out of her mouth aren't what she expects and it breaks Sansa's heart before she even hears them. « The sun is setting. We should go, before the night gets us and we forget our way back. »

A second later, he's walking away from Sansa and she's never felt this empty in her whole life. The emptiness fills her and she opens her eyes, watches him turn around and leave her, easily, his steps strong and heavy as he puts more distance between them, confidently, like he has done this before, like he has left a hundred times before and Sansa's throat gets tighter and she feels the tears coming but no. She can't cry. Not for him. If he doesn't love her, then fine. He doesn't have to. Another thing she won't be granted in her life. She had to leave her family so they could survive, and she won't be loved in return. Maybe Father was right, she thinks, getting what you want isn't an easy task but that doesn't mean she has to stop working for it.

~~

Val's lips drag on Jon's neck, her hands wandering on his toned chest, feeling his muscles. She is already bucking her hips into his, but Jon can't bring himself to reciprocate. He tries to touch her, feel her arms, her skin is smooth like always but somehow today he doesn't like it. He grabs her neck, burying his fingers in her honey hair, bringing her back to his face so he can kiss her. He loves her kisses, loves the way she always surrenders to his tongue, loves the way she moans in his mouth, but today he doesn't. He breaks the kiss and Val goes to suck and lick his neck on that spot he likes but he stops her. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he pushes her slightly, off of his body.

« What's wrong ? » Val asks him, and she searches his eyes for an answer, but Jon looks away. He gets up from the bed, and his skin feels cold where Val isn't touching him but it's not her. It didn't start with her, it's started long ago. He's cold, it's like his blood has frozen in his veins, like the fire animated him before has left completely. He leaves his room to take the stairs to his roof, not stopping one beat when Val calls for him, he doesn't stop to think that his name sounds different in her voice – and he doesn't stop as he wishes she had been the one kissing him.

The air is warm on the roof, and he leans on the wall and looks at the starry sky. He thinks about earlier, about how beautiful Sansa looked in the bright afternoon sun, how her light green lehenga fit her wonderfully. And how he had so badly wanted to kiss her. He thinks back on the moment, how he had been able to smell her fragrance, a hint of citrus and something else, how he had been able to feel the warmth emanating from her. He thinks back and his mother's words come back to him. Has he been so blind ? Has he been so blind, so caught up in his plot, manipulating her into liking him, playing the part of the charmer so well that now he is falling for her too ? Has he fallen too deep into this pit of vengeance that he couldn't climb his way back up ? What if he is actually falling for her.. what then ? She is married to his half brother, the son of the man he's seeking to destroy. If Sansa knew what he was doing.. could she love him still ? Could she still look at him with that same softness in her eyes ? Jon scoffs to himself, because no, Sansa might have the best heart, might be the kindest person he knows, but even she has limits to her kindness he's sure.

The next day, Jon is outside the forge, he chose to work outside today – the iciness he felt in his veins made his whole body ache and itch and he couldn't stand it so he had decided to work outside, on the little stone part near the wall, where he was able to sharpen his metals and so far, it has been fine. It has been fine, until he looks up and Sansa is walking up the stairs leading to the forge. He freezes in place and can only stare. She looks like an angel, like a goddess descending upon an Earth to bless him. She's wearing a shiny grey lehenga today, and a blue dupatta is draped over her shoulders, and he finds himself liking it. He never used to care about those sort of things, but with Sansa...

She stops a few feet away from his working station and he clears his throat, averting his eyes, and only then does he notice Saroj sahab in the back, along with a few of his workers. Frowning, he wonders what this is all about, and he looks at Sansa again. Probably sensing his silent question, she speaks.

« Saroj ji wants to give you a contract. »

Still frowning, Jon gives a look to the old man who barely two weeks ago threw him out of his shop refusing to give him work, because of his religion and his status. Looking back at Sansa, he raises an eyebrow. « How come ? »

Sansa is quick to respond. « I've convinced him. » The pride in her voice is so obvious, Jon would congratulate her in an other situation, would thank her even, ask her where she had been all his whole life – and would she like to stay forever – but right now, his feelings are far from being thankful.

« And what did you give him in return ? » He retorts, dropping his tool on the table with violence, it makes a loud noise, and he sees how Sansa flinches slightly at the bang, but she collects herself quickly enough, and Jon doesn't give her time to. « Or did he just listen to you because you're a hindu ? I am sorry, Mrs Talwar, but I don't accept charity. »

Sansa's eyes are clouded with a feeling he's only seen a handful of times on her, and it saddens him, but no, no Jon, he tells himself, he can't let himself fall for it, not further.

« It's not charity, Jon. I'm just trying to help you. » She turns to leave, but Jon moves more quickly than her. With a swift move, he grabs her hand, and stops her from moving away.

« I didn't ask for your help, Sansa. » He says, and he doesn't mean for his words to sound so mean, but maybe it'll help quiet down her affections towards him – and his towards her.

« Stop looking for faults in everything and everyone, Jon. Not all of us are deceiving. People can do good things, because they want to. And simply because they want to. »

He lets go of her hand, and lowers his eyes. How can someone be so kind ? How can someone so nice and good and kind and beautiful ever be his to love ? « But people are deceiving, Sansa. » He says in a whisper, still not meeting her eyes, and in his core, there's a part of him that prays she never finds out the truth about him and what he's done. « Kindness scares me, it never comes free of charge. »

« And yet, here I am. » She says, and she sounds truthful, and it terrifies him. « I've talked to Saroj-ji and I explained to him that Dura Mendi is your home , like it's his, and that both of you work to make it better. » How further can you be from the truth, Sansa ? Jon thinks. « And I'm not asking for anything in return. Completely free of charge. »

She smiles at him, that radiant smile of hers, and turns to leave, and this time, Jon lets her. He watches her frame, her small delicate frame walk down the stairs, each step echoing the parts of his heart breaking. He forces himself to stand still, plants his feet on the ground and puts his fists on the wooden table to anchor him. He needs to let her go, has to if he wants his plan to work. His plan is too important for him to drop now, he's so close to his goal. Sansa loves him, that's what he wanted. That's what he worked for. He can't stop now, this is bigger than loving Sansa, this is bigger than his feelings for her, this is bigger than her feelings for him. It's too late. He can let her go, he can, he can.

~~

Sansa and Lyanna are sitting on the little stairs at the back of the haveli, away from prying eyes and unwanted attention. Lyanna likes to have some of their sessions here, to sing in the open, she said that their voices have to mix with the wind to really resonate in them. Sansa likes the stillness of the water, and the peace it brings her. She's thought about it long enough, she's thought about it since she's seen Jon that afternoon, sweaty and closed off as always, but something had been different today. Was it their almost-kiss ? Is Jon feeling different towards her ? Is Jon feeling bad because she's married?

« You were right. » Sansa says after a while. « Something's changed. Do... » Sansa clears her throat, taking a second to gather her thoughts. « Do you know Jon ? He's a blacksmith in town. » Lyanna turns to her. « He helped me in the writing of my article, and- »

« Don't. I know what the next words out of your mouth are. » Lyanna stops her and looks away, at the water. « By the Gods, Sansa ! Not you.. »

« I'm sorry ! » Sansa says immediately. « I didn't mean for it to happen, it just did.. »

« You have to stay away from him. » Lyanna turns to her sharply, a strong conviction in her work. Sansa's eyes drop to her lap, in shame. « Sansa, you're married. »

« But.. I thought you'd understand, since..- »

« Since I run a brothel ? » Lyanna snaps and sits straighter. « Just because I run a brothel doesn't mean I condone cheating, Sansa. Your husband is a good man, an honest man. » Sansa wants to laugh. A good man, what a joke. Sansa wants to ask what kind of a good man spends most of his nights in his sister's bedroom only to come before morning ? What kind of honest man doesn't touch his wife after months of being married ? But she doesn't speak those thoughts out loud, no, she may not love Aryan, but she respects him and his sister, and without them, her family would be lost, so she keeps quiet and speaks other thoughts.

« Is being good the only trait that matters ? » Sansa asks, and it comes out like a bite, like she's a wolf and Lyanna is her opponent. « Is being good the only requirement in a marriage ? What about love ? What if I want more than good ? I've done a lot of things in my life, all of them for the safety of my family. I married someone I don’t love for my family ! Can't I do this one thing just for me ? »

« Sansa, watch your words. You're speaking of having an affair. Do you even know if he loves you ? »

Sansa opens her mouth to talk back but she closes it almost immediately. Lyanna is right, does she even know if Jon loves her ? He likes to tease her and flirt but he's never let her in on his actual feelings. If she were to tell him and go through with it... she would be shunned, put to the side as a social pariah. And that's if Jon likes her ; if he doesn't...

The manor is quiet when she gets home, but she knows Aryan is home. He was gone almost immediately after the meeting with the Muslim League, she had seen Rahul, and a few other men walking out of his office and by the way, Aryan had left his office in a hurry, anger flowing out of him with each step, she had felt bad for him, and maybe it was her talk with Lyanna but she had felt the need to know what had happened. That's why she walks to Aryan's home office, her steps confident. A beat and two knocks later, Aryan's voice lets her in. She opens the doors and finds him by his desk, his glasses up on his thin nose. He's still wearing his work clothes, but she notices he's loosened the two top buttons of his kameez vest. Even then, he looks like a painting, like a model of a victorian painter, with his perfect silky hair and symmetrical facial features. He used to scare her at first, Sansa remembers. For days, she hadn't been able to meet his eyes, let alone talk to him. But when you spend so much time with a dragon, even the wolf isn't scared anymore.

« I hope I'm not disturbing you. » Sansa says as she enters.

« No, I'm just running some edits on some of the articles. » He runs his hand through his hair in visible frustration, but even that doesn't disturb the perfect image he seems to hold. It infuriates Sansa somehow, how perfect and put together he is. If he was bad, violent, maybe her feelings could be justified, maybe people wouldn't point at her in the streets, but no. Her husband is a good man. At least, in public.

« Are you okay ? » She asks, genuinely concerned. « You left the office in a hurry after your meeting.. »

Aryan raises his eyes at her, and Sansa doesn't move, lets herself be scrutinized. What does he see ? She wonders. Does he see the good girl her parents promised him ? Does he see the girl who used to run after kites and dance in the streets with her siblings to the beat of drums ? Or does he see the girl who has feelings for someone else ?

« Some of our employees who are muslim joined their league. They're now asking that we take back our statements and articles against The Partition. » Aryan explains as he leans back in his seat. She can see the anger lingering on his face, how his jaw clenches, but there's worry too.

« Are you going to ? » She questions and she makes sure to keep her tone neutral, just the tiniest bit eager to know.

« I can't ! » Aryan says, shaking his head. « If I do, the paper will lose all credibility to the public and if I don't- »

« They'll revolt against you. » Sansa finishes.

« More than they already do. » Aryan sighs. « I don't know what to do.. »

« Listen to them. I understand why you don't want to take back your words but our country fought so the British would leave. People want identity, they want a home that reflects their values and their convictions. The Partition is freedom for the muslims, because it'd be on their terms. They're only asking for a land that will be theirs, and theirs only. It's no different than asking the British to leave India. »

Aryan's eyes are on her, a look of surprised mixed with impressed on his face. « I didn't know my wife was so well versed in the matters of politics. »

« There's a lot you don't know about me. » The words are out before she can grab them and keep them in and she sees Aryan's mouth fall slightly open in utter shock, and she mentally slaps herself for speaking too quickly. Before he can speak and she can embarrass herself further, she decides to leave. « I'll let you get back to your work. I'll see you at dinner. »

A second later, she's out of the office, her heart racing and she lets out a small groan at herself. Stupid girl, she thinks. She's about to see if Priya needs help with dinner when she hears her name.

« Sansa ! » Rhaenys is running to her, her bracelets and ankle jewels echoing in the vast manor. She looks better today, Sansa notices, she has more colour to her face, but her eyes are tired. But her smile is the same, bright as the sun, and Sansa tries to match it with her own as Rhaenys approaches her. « I was hoping I could see you before dinner. I managed to have the film developed, and there are some of the photos you took. »

Rhaenys hands her a few photographs and Sansa takes them. The top photograph is the one of Jon, and Sansa's eyes linger on it for a second. She remembers that day, he had been coming out of the mosque, the sun had been shining down on him, illuminating him like the angel he is. The photograph is little over exposed but still, she can still spot his eyes, his grey eyes and the smirk he had shown her when he had noticed her. She doesn't even fight the smile on her life when it appears and she looks up to Rhaenys. « Thank you. » 

« You're welcome. You have a sharp eye for beautiful things. You should use the camera more. » Rhaenys suggests. 

« Maybe I will. » Sansa nods, and Rhaenys smiles brightly at that and excuses herself before heading to Aryan's office. And Sansa sees the smile Aryan gives Rhaenys when she enters and how he immediately rises from his seat to go meet her. She doesn't avert her eyes when she sees Aryan forcefully closes the door behind her, she doesn't avert her eyes when she sees his hands on her waist and his lips on hers before the wooden doors conceal the rest.

The next morning, she's riding with Aryan to the newspaper building. They're both in the backseat, facing the windows on their sides. Sansa wants to talk, she wants to know why Aryan and Rhaenys are hiding – even though she knows. She wants to know why Rhaenys wasn't at breakfast, and she wants to know why Aryan's leg keeps shaking and why he's biting his nails and why his jaw is so clenched and why is his whole body so tense. But her thoughts are cut short when the car stops slowly, and Sansa turns to the driver.

« Raj ? » She asks, and Raj doesn't answer right away. But one look to the front of the car and she gets the answer. A large group of men are standing in front of the newspaper's building, they're holding signs and shouting as they push the signs in the air. Squinting her eyes, Sansa notices Rahul, standing at the front of the crowd and she almost gasps when she sees the pride in his eyes, and the cruel smirk he flaunts.

Aryan opens his door and Sansa wants to scream to stay, please, she doesn't want to be alone, not right now, not when there's a screaming crowd of men outside, not when he already feels like a hundred miles away from her and she can't reach, no matter how hard she tries to.

She sees Pallavi and Yash walking to Aryan and she can't hear what they say, but she sees on Aryan's face, she sees it on Aryan's face as they speak. The understanding. The fear. The resolution. And then a minute later, he's by her side again, closing the door behind him.

« Raj, let's go home. » Aryan says and Sansa wants to ask what Pallavi and Yash said but she doesn't have time because a man is hitting the car and another punches it and Raj starts to put the car in reverse and all Sansa can do is watch as the crowd close in on them.

She is speechless again as she stands there, next to Rhaenys as Aryan and his father Arjun Talwar argue. Rhaenys looks worried next to her, rightfully so in Sansa's opinion, but the color had drained from her face long before Aryan and her had come back.

« We have to leave ! » Arjun raises his voice for the hundredth time at his son, and Sansa remembers the discussion she's heard weeks ago. She thinks about the illegitimate son he has, roaming somewhere in the city and she thinks he's lucky, he's lucky that he doesn't have to live with someone like Arjun Talwar, who will manage everyone around him down to the tiniest detail. « The riots are only going to grow bigger from now on, and they're boycotting our paper ? »

« The riots won't grow bigger if we show them that we're not scared of them ! » Aryan protests.

« Bewukuf ho tum ! » Arjun sahab raises his hands towards the sky. « What have I done to God to have a son like you ! If we don't leave, they'll have our blood, they'll riot and won't stop and we'll all die ! »

« They won't do a thing. » Aryan says, with a cold voice. Sansa notices his hands clenching at his sides. « Besides, we can't travel now, the doctor said Rhaenys needs to rest. A trip would be too tiring for her. She needs to get better first.»

« Can we really afford to wait that long.. » Arjun says and Sansa frowns. Does it mean.. Surely he can't mean.. Sansa glances at Rhaenys next to her, the young girl is looking down, pain all over her face, and Sansa knows that Arjun sahab does mean it. What kind of father is he, Sansa thinks. It's as if he's lost all hope that she will, and that he doesn't think they can wait for her death to make leaving arrangements then. What kind of father, no, what kind of human is he ? Sansa's own hands clench then, and again her thoughts go to the illegitimate child he has and doesn't want, and thinks how happily she'd trade places with him right now. 

« Fine, we'll wait » Arjun says. « But if there's a knife at your throat in the middle of the night, don't call my name as you bleed to death. » 

And with that, he's gone and Sansa's eyes follow his tall frame as he walks away, and she wonders how could anyone fall for this man. She remembers the first time she had met him, the day of her wedding to Aryan. He had been nice, had smiled at her as he had tied the end of her dupatta to Aryan's. He had smiled and laughed with her parents, had reassured them that she would be taken care of, and that they wouldn't miss anything from now on, that their money problems would be sorted out, thanks to him. But now, now she sees his true face and she wishes she had stayed with her family, damned be their financial problems.

For the next few days, they stay home, on Arjun's orders. Words come from Aryan's colleagues that the Muslim League is boycotting the entrance of their office, so there's no way they'd be able to go to work safely. So for days, she's stuck in the mansion, this giant empty cold house that feels less like a home the more she stays in. She tries to spend time with Rhaenys, but the young girl doesn't seem to have much energy left these days, and Sansa never says no when Aryan asks if he can be left alone with his sister. She always leaves the room as quietly as possible, closing the door behind her.

By the fifth day, she's getting restless so she asks to go to her singing lessons. She asks Aryan because she knows he's getting as restless as her so she asks him and not his father, and he tells her yes. And she's surprised when he rises from his seat as well, and follows her to the car.

« What are you doing ? » She asks him.

« I'm sick of letting my father rule my life. » Aryan says, as he closes the door of the car. « And I'm not letting people think they've cornered me into being afraid. I'm tired of being afraid, Sansa. »

She smiles at that, and she extends her hands, letting it rest over his as Raj starts the car. Aryan turns to look at her hand over his and then up to her eyes, and he smiles back. She looks at his smile, thinks about how differents things could have been, if they had met in other circumstances. Maybe in another life, where she's not in love with Jon and Aryan isn't in love with his sister, maybe they could make it work. But not in this one, no, in this one, all they can be is two people stuck in a compromise.

Raj drops Sansa at the second entrance of the haveli, the one that's connected to the city directly, and she bids Aryan goodbye, and watches as the car leaves. Arjun sahab must know they've left by now, and it's only so long before his wrath falls upon Aryan and her. But she can't think about this now, no, so she turns and starts her walks towards the entrance. She's almost by the door, when she hears a familiar laugh. Looking up, she sees Jon, his arm around the waist of a girl who has an arm circled around his torso as well, entering the haveli laughing and smiling to each other. Her heart drops in her chest at the sight, and more when she realizes Jon doesn't see her at all. The connection she once thought they had.. was it all unrequited ? Was it all a fantasy that she made up in her affection-craving mind ? Had she been wrong the whole time ? Jon had once mentioned that without consent and a good price, he doesn't touch women. Had he asked, she knows she'd have said yes to him. But no, he doesn't even want her. No one does. Not Aryan, her husband. Not Jon, the one she thought she had something with.

« It's best if you stay away from him. » A voice behind her startles her and Sansa turns to find Val. The woman is taller than her slightly, and Sansa has spoken with her a handful of times, and Val always seemed to despise her, a harshness in her words towards Sansa. « No matter how much the moth loves the flame, it always gets burned. »

Val's words echo in Sansa's mind and she gets the meaning perfectly. Her will to sing is lost, has left her body along with her happiness. Blinking away her tears, she clears her throat. « Please tell Lyanna ma'am that I won't be able to continue my lessons. » And with that she's gone, running down the steps as fast her feet allow her, she crosses the street to find a secluded corner and only then does she let her tears fall. Only then does she allow herself to sob. The shadow conceals from view, and stops her from seeing Val's eyes follow her before she disappears from sight, it stops her from seeing Jon standing on the second floor of the haveli, having seen the whole interaction and Val's eyes meeting his, and the small nod he gives her in thanks.

When she goes back home after having the day at the office pretending to edit when really she was reminiscing the look of happiness on Jon's face, she's standing behind Aryan when she stops in her tracks. Arjun sahab stands in the center of the hallway, a disapproving look on his face, but Sansa doesn't see much of it, as Aryan moves in front of her, shielding her from his anger.

« Do you have any idea what you're doing ? » Arjun sahab says, and Sansa had expected him to yell, to scream out of madness, but no, his voice is calm, like water.

« We can't keep being afraid. This is not how we move forward. » Arjun answers, and again, he never fails to surprise Sansa in how collected he is.

« Sometimes, fear is what keeps you alive. » His father retorts and he turns on his heels and leaves. Sansa lets out a long breath. She steps away from behind Aryan, and turns to him. He has a stoic expression on, but she sees his clenched jaw, matching his closed fists, and there are tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Sansa hurts for him then, for all he has to hide and pretend to be. She doesn't why but for the second time that day, she takes his hand and this time, she laces their fingers and squeezes. He turns to her and she tries a smile, a tear rolls down on his cheek and she wants to wipe it but she doesn't think she can do it. She just wants to reassure him, let him know that he's not alone, fighting this. But she's not sure who she's trying to reassure. Aryan or herself.

That night, Rhaenys didn't come down for dinner, and as Sansa walks by her room, she hears loud coughings coming out of him. Worry grows as she stills, hearing the young girl whines and coughs and she's about to open the door, when she hears Aryan's voice. She can't make out what he says but she hears Rhaenys' soft whimpers, and Sansa's falls to her side. She resumes her walk to her own bedroom, and locks the door behind her. The cold hits her at once, and she sighs when she realizes it's because she's left her window open. She goes to close it, not letting the cold in anymore. She can still see the city lights, and she stays for a moment, staring into the distance, recognising Dura Mendi even from afar. Part of her still wishes she had never come here, never had been married off to Aryan, that same part that yearned for her family, her baby brothers Bran and Rickon, for silly arguments with Arya and long afternoons spent singing with Robb and their mother and nights in the library with her father. But then another part of her thinks of Jon and everything she's learned about the town. If she were to leave, she would miss it, she would miss Jon, Lyanna, Priya and Rhaenys and Aryan... even Val with her snarky remarks and disapproving looks. But she's grown used to them all. And Jon.. Arjun's words come back to her at the thought of leaving Jon. Sure, she fell in love with a man that's not her husband, but could she really seek this relationship out ? The answer comes to her immediately. No, no. She respects Aryan too much to ever humiliate him like this – even when he spends all of his nights with his sister and has never touched Sansa in a husband way. She can't have Jon, not in this life, not in the world they live in but maybe, she can know what he feels ?

~~

Jon is working on a horseshoes order when he hears footsteps behind him, and it's like his body really works on its own accord, because he just knows it's Sansa. He knows, in the way his chest is not tight anymore, in the way his heart beats a little more peacefully, in the way the air in his lungs doesn't come in short breaths anymore. And he closes his eyes, his hand completely still around his hammer, he braces himself, waiting for her voice to break the melodic silence of the forge.

« Imran said you weren't too busy. » And her voice comes to him like a sweet lullaby to his ears, and the longing he's been feeling in his heart at the thought of her for days is finally appeased. He doesn't answer however, he doesn't turn to her to talk to her, he can't have her know how he's been feeling, he can't let her see his feelings. Because he knows the minute, he'll turn around, the anger fuelled by missing her will fade. It had been almost two weeks without seeing her, and he had been a mess. Disoriented, forgetful, he felt like he was being caught off guard by all his feelings, and not even his old ways helped him cope.

« Jon ? » Again, he doesn't turn, doesn't talk, but he wills his body to move so he starts working again, and then puts the newly finished horse-shoe in the box and he catches a glance of Sansa then, and Haye Allah, he wishes he hadn't. She's wearing a light red choli top, and her lehenga skirt is of a cream colour, and she looks amazing, and he hates that he notices these things about her. He has never cared about what Val wore – it never mattered before as it never stayed on her for long.

« Why are you avoiding me ? » She pushes further and he wants to smile at the forwardness she shows. Maybe after all this time spent with him, some of him rubbed on her – and when he'll watch her be taken away while the train steam surrounds them, the thought that some of him will stay with her will hurt as much as it brings him solace.

« Spending too much time with you made me forget how much work people have to actually do, unlike rich people. » He finds the courage to answer, and it takes everything in him to keep his eyes away from her, especially when he hears her sigh, but he can see the expression on her face clearly on her face. He's seen it before, too many times, and it always made him smile, and now, he wishes it could let it bring comfort to him, but no. For her sake, and his, no.

« I am leaving the city soon. I am leaving Abedrabad. »Sansa lets out the words and his whole body stops and this time he can't stop from looking at her. He lowers his hammer, and turns to meet her blue eyes, those blue eyes he's dreamed of so much. He sees the sadness in them, and his heart and body both scream for him to move, to do something – to go near hear her so he can hold her in his arms. « How strange life is.. At first, I didn't want to come here at all, » she chuckles, and her eyes fall to the ground, « and now, I don't want to leave. »

Jon clears her throat and pushes his feelings to the side, where they should remain. « I'm sure wherever your husband takes you, you'll be happy. »

At that, Sansa scoffs. A flash of a feeling crosses her face but it's too brief and he doesn't have time to decipher it. « He doesn't love me. And I don't love him. » She takes a step closer to him and his hearts beats a little faster at that, and he wills his body to stay put, for his hands to stay by his sides and not reach out to her. « And I'm tired of living a lie. I've already found happiness, why should I stop myself from pursuing it when my husband is not ? »

Jon frowns, because he can feel like there's a bigger issue lingering underneath but he promised himself he wouldn't get involved further with her. For her sake, and his. « We can't always have what we want, Sansa. Some relationships are like debts, you can't just forget them and move on, you have to stay and repay them. »

« And what if no one profits from what that repayment ? » She asks. « What if I end up hurting more people by staying ? What if I lose more people by staying ? »

« Loss can be better than a profit at times. » He takes a step back but she follows him, and part of him thanks her for that, for never staying too far, but a part of him wishes she could make it a little easier for him.

« And if I lose myself ? Who profits from that ? » She retorts and his mouth falls open at her question because she's not wrong. « Why should my feelings be the slaves of customs ? Isn't that the biggest sin there is, not letting in to our feelings ? » And she looks at him, and her eyes keep him there, frozen, and it's like time stands still too, and he wishes he could have this moment, remember it always, always have her this close. And he knows what she wants to ask, he knows because it's what he's been trying to fight for weeks now.

« I don't have feelings for you, Sansa. » And the words hurt more than he thought they would, they sting his tongue and his lips burn from the feeling of them, and his heart seems to burst from the pressure of the lie.

« Why can't I believe you ? » Sansa asks and her voice is soft, she's not even angry, and he hates it, she should be mad, upset, fuming but she's not. And it pains him, it only serves as a reminder that she's good, too good for him. Because I'm lying. All I've been doing is lie to you, he thinks.

« Because you want love. » He answers with a sigh and it comes from something deep inside him. « You want love more than you want to believe things. And it's shielding you from the truth, and you need to stop, because it'll destroy you. I can't give you anything other than grief. »

« Manzoor hai. »

Sansa says and her choice of words leaves him a little bit breathless. How many times has he been dreaming of hearing these words from her ? In a different setting. Separated by a see through curtain, with an imam, with Sansa dressed like a queen on the other side of it. He wants nothing more than this picture, this dream to happen. To say the words he's dreamed of back to her. But it can never be.

« You don't know me, Sansa, nor do you know my life. » He says. « You don't know why I was trying to get to you. It wasn't because of love. And I can't give it to you. And if you knew why, you wouldn't want it from me either. »

« Have you ever thought that maybe you've grown accustomed to a certain kind of love that now when someone is offering you a different kind, you're scared to have it because you don’t recognize it as love? » She says and his brows furrow slightly, and he wonders how is she always getting so close to the truth, how does she always manage to know everything he tries to hide from himself ? « There's a million reasons why we choose to avoid love, and most of the time, the reason is fear, and we stay afraid because it's easy. But I am tired of being afraid. I thought you wouldn't be afraid, but I suppose I was wrong. »

« Sansa, I.. » There's so much he wants to say so much he wants to tell her. Because she's right. He is afraid. He is afraid of losing her when he doesn't even have her. He is afraid that she'll hate him when she learns what he's done. He's afraid of what she'll think of him when she does. He's afraid of seeing hate in her eyes when she learns, the same hate he's seen all his life in people's eyes.

« I found my reason to stop being afraid. Now the rest is up to you. »

She doesn't wait for his answer, it stays in his throat, stuck before it reaches his lips, as he watches her leave, creating this cold space between them. And Jon is frozen in his spot, his feet seems buried in the ground as he watches her leave ; he thinks she stops, for only one second, and he thinks this is it, this is his chance, he can run to her, turn her around, and ask her to run away with him. She doesn't have to know who he is, that he used her for his revenge, they could run to a town where no one knows them, or back in her hometown, she'd like that he thinks. But he doesn't run to her, she doesn't turn to look at him one last time, and she's gone then, and Jon is alone, and he's been alone all his life, but this is different. He's not just alone, he's lonely too. And he's been lonely before, never yearned for company, he's learned how to be on his own since he was a child, but ever since he met Sansa, everything has changed.

Weeks pass, and the town is busy preparing for the Eid celebrations and Jon is happy for it as it gives his brain a distraction. A distraction to not think about Sansa. But everytime he looks at the children lighting up the candles on the side of the street, he thinks she would love it. Everytime he hears the girls choose the jewelry they're going to wear for the celebrations, he wonders what kind of jewelry Sansa likes best. Every time he passes by a small restaurant and smells the typical dishes they have on Eid, he wonders if Sansa would like it. He hasn't seen her in a month, not since she came by the forge, and he'll lie if he says he hadn't walked by the newspaper building more often than not, trying to catch a glimpse of her, but it looks like his luck had left with her. He had watched from afar, as the people from the newspaper went in and out, but no sight of Sansa. A month without seeing her. The anger he had felt before, at the thought of her staying with her husband all this time, still lingers in his body, but now sadness has become a companion of his anger. It hides and stays quiet but then he'll see a couple in the streets, walking side by side and the sadness will let out a scream and Jon will feel his heart burst in his chest and he'll have to look away.

Rahul comes to find him the morning of Eid with sweets and they break their fast together after their morning prayer. Jon stays silent as his friend tells him about the progress they're making him with the league.

« Now that our fast is over, we'll start organizing some strikes again. » Rahul says.

« Bhai, calm down, let people just enjoy themselves tonight, please. Not everything has to be so political all the time. » Jon knows he's hypocritical by saying this, he's the one who manipulated Rahul for years, he's the one who installed this idea in his head and now... he knows he's only reaping what he sowed.

Rahul sighs. « Fine, you're coming to the celebrations tonight ? » Jon shrugs vaguely as answer. « Come on, Jon. You've been looking like a sad puppy for weeks now, it'll cheer you up ! »

« I'm not in the mood.. » Jon says, and he almost wants to laugh at the words, but it's no use. No words could really describe how he has been feeling, there's no words he could put on his pain and have it be accurate.

Rahul watches him for a minute, and Jon lets him, almost tired of faking stoicness all the time. He wonders if Rahul can tell that his heart is broken, if he knows ; but how could he ? It's not like Jon has ever talked about this sort of things with him, or that Rahul has for that matter. Now that he thinks about it, he can't think of a time where Rahul has told him about a girl he loves.

« Rahul ? » Jon says. « Have you ever loved anyone ? »

Rahul watches him for a minute in silence, and Jon stares back, and it's strange, he realizes. After all these years, all these moments spent with Rahul, he looks at Rahul and he realizes he doesn't know the man. « Never mind it. » And there's hurt in the brown eyes, hurt and pain and they look away from Jon, and part of Jon wants to question further, but he knows he shouldn't, knows he can't. This is his own doing ; all these years he's spent plotting his revenge, getting close to people that'd only serve his purpose .. who would stand by his side if he were to tell the truth ? Probably no one.

Later that evening, when everyone is surely getting ready for the celebrations, long after the sun has set, he's walking by the river bank, in search of some peace. There's no one there, and the water is still, dark, and almost inviting. He stops for a moment, looking at the dark body of water before his eyes, wondering if the water would bring him peace. If he were to descend in the depths of the river, would people mourn him ? Would they get his body out and weep for his soul ? Would Lyanna shed tears for her lost son and be happy that she's finally free of the burden of caring for him ? Would Sansa mourn him ? No, she probably wouldn't. Nobody would. His life doesn't really amount to anything to anyone, all the people he's deceived, they'd be happier if he were to die. He thinks of Sansa, and this whole month spent without seeing her, and the ache it's caused him. He wishes he could see her now, she would make him feel better, just the sight of her would make him feel better. All this time without seeing her.. he might as well be blind. He keeps wondering how she's doing, especially tonight ; does she know it's Eid ? Is she celebrating ? She's not muslim, but is she ? Is she celebrating thinking of him ?

A noise startles him, taking him out his rêverie, and Jon looks around, searching for the source. He spots a man, sitting near the river bank, a few meters away from him, looking at the water. Jon immediately spots the bottle of alcohol in the man's hands. Having seen enough drunks in his life and the reckless things they can do in that state, Jon walks closer to the stranger. Only when he's at a respectable distance, does Jon speak up.

« This day is not the time for grieving, bhai. »

The stranger jumps slightly at the sound of Jon's voice, and turns to look at him. He has light brown eyes, Jon notices even in the darkness of the night, his face stained with tears, his eyes red-rimmed. Jon wonders what happened to this man for him to be in such a state so openly. He wants to tell the stranger to go home, if he can find it, to sober up and get over it, but how can he say that when he's feeling just like him on the inside ?

« Who says I'm grieving ? » The stranger speaks and Jon is surprised to find not slurring or stuttering. Considering the amount of liquid still left, it really comes off as a shock but it's good, that way he can try to reason with the man easily.

« People drink together when they celebrate. Only in grief do people tend to drink alone. »

The man sighs. « I just want to have a few moments to myself, without people's pitiful eyes on me. To remember my life as it once was, before pain came..»

« I understand the feeling only too well.. » Jon says, more to himself. The man turns to him more openly.

« What are you grieving ? »The man asks and Jon suddenly feels cornered but there's a certain safety in the way the stranger looks at him, it's in the way his eyes hold no judgement, Jon thinks, like familiarity. « There's no liquor in your hands, and you're not at the celebrations.. What ills your heart ? » Jon looks down, feeling shy for the way the man easily sees right through him. It's easy to talk to a stranger, easier to reveal your secrets in my opinion », the man continues, « your heart feels lighter and your reputation remains intact. »

Jon wonders, could he ? Could he tell this man he's only known for a few minutes all his problems ? Could he be that brave ? Could he really unload his emotional baggage on this man ? Even if he's just a stranger, would Jon's reputation truly stay the same ? That's a risk he's not willing to take just yet, but he does feel the need to speak about his problems. So maybe, just one, the most important one.

« I've fallen in love with a married woman. » He simply says, and just as he says those words, it's like his chest is a hundred times heavier. A silence settles between the two of them, and even though it's meant to be uncomfortable, Jon doesn't think it is. He doesn't see judgement on the man's face, and Jon doesn't know if it's genuine or if he's trying to school his expression to not hurt Jon's feelings but he's thankful either way.

After a moment, the man extends his bottle. « You seem like you need it more than I do right now. »

Jon chuckles and shakes his head. « No thank you. I'm muslim. »

« Eid mubarak. » The stranger says, and Jon nods at him. « And she ? Does she love you ? »

Jon nods again. « Way more than I do. » And it's the truth, no matter how much he'd try, Sansa does love him more than he loves her, he knows it, she loved him before he did, and it became his downfall before he could even think.

« So ? What's the problem ? »

Jon laughs at the bluntness of the man's words. « If only you were her husband, then my problem would be solved ! » The man joins him and they both laugh loudly, and Jon finds it strange, how similar their laughs sound, how in tune they are, as if their voice agreed to blend in from the first second.

The man in front of him stops and stares at Jon, a smile still lingering there. « Have you tried to talk to her ? Tried to find a solution ? » Jon lowers his eyes to the ground, and shakes in head. « That's the problem with today's world, we don't talk to each other anymore, we've become so afraid of saying the things we want, we think fighting is easier. » The man says and he sounds like an old man, wise beyond his ears, and in another situation, Jon wouldn't let him live it down, but right now, he doesn't want to break this bubble of honesty around them so he doesn't say it.

« Sometimes it is. It's easier to fight than expression one's love. » He says instead, and the man frowns at him.

« But what kind of man would want to live with a woman who's in love with another man ? »

« There's one more aspect to the whole story.. »

The stranger raises an eyebrow in wonder. « Are wah ! I stayed for a story and you're here setting up a whole stage ! »

Jon gets closer and the man leans in and this all feels so natural to Jon, like they've done this a hundred times before, but no, they haven't and something stirs inside of him, a longing he never felt before, but he pushes it to the side quickly enough. « The issue is, I haven't been entirely honest with her. »

« So ? Go to her and be fully honest then. » The man says as if it's that easy. And Jon rolls his eyes and tells him just that.

« It's not that easy. »

« I believe it is. » The man says and Jon knows he's right. He could go to Sansa, tell her the truth and face the consequences, but no, he's afraid, afraid she'll hate him, afraid she'll despise him for all eternity, as she should.

With a sigh, Jon decides to pull away from the subject. « Anyway, enough about me. What's your story ? »

It's the man's turn to sigh. « I .. I want to collect the broken pieces of myself, the one I've been walking on my whole life and move on. But I don't know where to begin, there are so many.. »

« Well, find the first one that wounded you, and then go from there, and then you can mend them and put them back together. »

The man looks at Jon with a look of wonder again. « That easy ? »

« That easy. » Jon nods and smirks, watching as the stranger takes a long sip from his bottle. « So... How many women have you slept with ? »

The man almost chokes at his words. « What kind of ridiculous question is that ? »

« So only one, then ? » Jon smirks and it only grows as he watches the man in front of him try to come up with an answer, but he fails and just looks away.

« I've only loved one woman my whole life. She's everything to me. Everything I could have asked for.. And God took her from me. » Jon hears the sadness laced in the man's voice and for an unknown reason, it breaks Jon's heart to hear it. He wants to speak, offer some comfort but the man's eyes are back on him, glossy and tear-filled, but his voice is soft and steady. « And how many women have you slept with ? »

Jon takes the change of topic and tries to play it cool. « I don't know how to count to that many. » A deep laugh breaks from the stranger's throat and Jon joins him and for a second, life isn't that bad. They laugh and Jon watches as the brunette man throw his empty bottle in the river. It disappears with a big sound, small waves appearing on the surface, and Jon wonders. Does something has to be destroyed for another to be created ? Does he have to talk Sansa, ask her to quit her loveless marriage so they can be together and have a loving relationship ? He doesn't have time to indulge in those thoughts, because the man grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him slightly.

« We should celebrate ! Eid, making friends, life ! »

The joy emanating from the man, Jon isn't sure if it's the alcohol or a genuine feeling fueling the stranger but the words comfort Jon in thinking that it'd be okay, everything will be okay. So they do go back to the town, to the busy streets with the people dancing and singing and the lights are blinding and the music is loud and Jon and his new friend join in, carefree and enthusiastic. And for the moments where he meets his new friend's eyes, those light green eyes, Jon thinks everything will be okay. And for a few moments he does. When he dances along his friend. When he sings and people join him and all he hears is laughters and cheers and praises and his heart is so full and warm , he wants to feel like this forever. And when he turns around and sees Sansa amongst the crowd, he thinks this is it. This is the universe being on his side for once ; after all these weeks, he can finally what he's been wanting for so long. She has her eyes set on him, a small smile playing on her lips, and he stops and smiles, taking in her sight. She's wearing a light green lehenga but her top is white and she's wearing a heavy blue dupatta on her head, covering herself. He's about to take a step towards her when he sees his friend walk past him, in the same direction Jon was about to take. Jon is frozen as he watches, sees how Sansa's eyes are now on the man, her small smile fading, and Jon's brain works quickly, racing with questions. But as he watches them exchange a few words, and then leave together, the answer comes like a hammer on a glass, clashing with his heart, shattering into a billion pieces. The feeling is foreign and familiar, all at once and too much and the worst he's ever felt.

The man he's just befriended. Sansa's husband.

Sansa's husband.

His brother.

One of the people he's sworn to destroy.

His own blood.

The world is spinning around him, a mess of bright colors and noises and Jon's brain isn't registering any of it. His vision gets blurry and he doesn't feel the tears until he's left the crowd, he thinks he hears his name but that could be his imagination. His feet take him away from the crowd, away from the deafening noise, but even when he finds himself wandering alone in the streets, the noise hasn't left him and his chest is tight with trapped broken sobs and his breath comes out short and ragged and it hurts and everything hurts as he falls to the ground, his knees giving up under him.

He doesn't know he reaches the haveli, he doesn't know where how long he stayed down, crying before he managed to get back up again – in the back of his mind, he thinks he's crawled but he's not sure what's real or not -, he doesn't know how he managed to walk straight under the crushing weight of the broken pieces of his heart. He finds himself standing in front of the haveli doors, and climbing the stairs. A part of him feels shame, that the only place he can go to order to seek some comfort is a place he hates, but it's the only place where he can still show his face and not be thrown to the curb. Jon almost wants to laugh at the irony.

When he reaches the top stairs, he stops in his tracks however, confronted with a sight he has stopped dreaming of for years. In the center of the grand circular hall, where Lyanna usually spends her evenings overseeing rehearsals from her apprentices, stand not just Lyanna herself, but Arjun Talwar as well. Arjun Talwar. Jon's father. The one who never wanted him. They seem to be in an animated discussion but Lyanna's eyes find Jon and she stops. Arjun notices and turns around and Jon finally sees the face of the man who made his life a misery from before he was ever born. He takes a few steps, his eyes scanning the face of the old man in front of him. His light hair, like Aryan's, the light coloured eyes, likes Aryan's. He has to look away, because now that he knows his brother, has talked to him, he doesn't hate him, but another look at Arjun Talwar's face and his hatred might grow bigger.

« Are wah.. Allah has truly blessed me today, hasn't He ? » Jon says, breaking the thick silence surrounding the three of them. Each steps of his bring him closer and he can see Lyanna's nerves sipping out of her, as clearly as he can decipher Arjun's anger. « After years, I come to Ammi, ask for some guidance, seek some motherly comfort, but look, Allah has brought the whole family together. On one side, we have Lyanna, the most beautiful and talented courtesan of our times who discarded her child for a man who pushed her to the side at the first inconvenience, and on the other side, we have Mister Arjun Talwar, the leader behind the newspaper of this town, who discarded my existence before my birth, but is somehow here today. Are you here to beg from me ? From Ammi ? »

« What do you want ? » Arjun spats and Jon's hatred does grow. If he hated the man who left him before, what he feels is nothing compared to what he's feeling now. « Do you want me to beg for the sake of my family ? I'm not going to stoop so low ! You just leave them alone ! »

Jon raises his chin in defiance. « You would know about that, wouldn't you ? Leaving people is your trademark, your legacy... What do you even know about family, what it means ? Only Allah knows how many of my siblings roam this very city at this instant ! »

« I only have one family, and I'm trying to protect it from the both of you ! » Arjun raises his finger at both Jon and Lyanna, waving it to their face, but maybe Jon is truly Lyanna's son to the core, for neither of them lower their gaze under the old man's anger.

« Then tell your daughter in law to stop loving me. » Jon answer with a calm voice that surprises him. But the surprise comes a second later. It disappears quickly however, only when the sting from Arjun's slap has faded a little, and Jon's anger is fueled with disgust and repulse. He hears Lyanna gasp next to him, and her hand on his shoulder brings some kind of comfort but he doesn't have to indulge in it because Arjun is already yelling his next insult.

« I told you you should've aborted him ! Didn't I tell you this years ago ? This child will bring nothing but trouble with him ! He murdered our relationship ! » He screams, this time his jabbing words directed to Lyanna.

« More like he revealed your true self. » Lyanna answers, collected.

« He's not my son. He's only the result of a mistake that I've tried but can't break away from ! »

Jon has had enough. Everything he has ever felt comes bubbling up to the surface, and his hand rises to grab Arjun's throat and Jon squeezes but Lyanna's hands tighten around his arms. « Jon, stop ! Jon ! Jon !! » She begs him and Jon doesn't obey. Why should he stop ? This man has done nothing for him, nothing for her, why is she begging for him to spare him ? Why should he stop himself from taking the life of this man ? It can only be fair..

« Do whatever you want with me, » Arjun says, his voice breaking under the pressure of Jon's fingers around his throat, « but don't make my son pay for my sins. He hasn't done anything to you.. »

At the mention of Aryan, Jon releases him. He thinks back on earlier, and he remembers Aryan's tear stained by the river bank, and the sadness in his laugh and Jon takes a step back from Arjun.

« I met him today, you know. » He reveals. « Your precious son. I always thought he had everything , everything I could want. But meeting tonight, I realized that's not true. Yes, he does have everything. But he's not happy. In your struggle to protect him from the world, you forgot to give him love too. And now he's miserable. » He scoffs when he sees Arjun's defeated look. « All my whole life, I only had one goal, it was to see you like this, but I guess Sansa is right like always, when someone's failure feels like a victory to us, then we are the failures after all.

« You have no right to talk about her. This family won't lose another- » He chokes on his words and Jon wonders why.

« « I know you'll never accept me. But you can't deny that I'm a part of you. And.. I'm your first son. And that's why I ask for my fair share too. » It's risky, he's playing with his chances, betting too much on a losing horse, but he has to try.

« What do you want ? » Arjun hisses.

« Sansa. » The name falls like honey off his lips, so familiar and sweet, bringer of things that aren't meant for Jon. « I love her. This is all I'll ever ask, just- »

« You want me to give away my daughter in law ?! » Arjun exclaims, vehemence clear in his tone. « Stay away from Sansa, and from my son ! Or else the consequences will be dire for you ! »

« I love Sansa and Sansa loves me. Sansa's love is my right. It's not yours, you don't own it, and this right, this love that I'm owed, I will take it anyhow ! »

He turns on his heels, not letting Arjun have the last word, no, this man will never have the last word with Jon, no, this will never have anything over Jon. No. There's a fire roaring in Jon's chest as he leaves the haveli, and it had died down for a while, but now it's alive again, burning bright and Jon feels like he could burn this city down himself. He feels like a beast, starving and on the hunt, with a need to close his teeth over meat, to taste blood in his mouth, to feed on his enemy's flesh and lay the bones at the feet of.. He shakes away the thought. She hasn't seen him in a month, busy with her husband. He shouldn't care that much, she was only a tool in his plan after all, a pawn he used. That's what he shall remember, always.

~~

Sansa places a plate at Aryan's seat, but knowing full well he wouldn't be coming down to breakfast. He hadn't bothered to for the last month, why would he now ? He had seemed changed last night, yes ; she had seen him dance and laugh along with the people, and she had thought he had never looked happier. Or perhaps as happy as he had been when Rhaenys was still alive. For a month, ever since Rhaenys died, Aryan had been distant, even more than usual, either locked in his office or leaving early to work, and coming late from the office. Sansa hadn't left the property in the meantime, busy with taking care of the estate. Her days had been filled with learning how to manage everything, taught by Arjun himself, and Sansa would lie if she said spending time with her father in law had changed her opinion on him. The man had just lost his only daughter and was still ruthless and determined and he never failed to show his resilience. Part of Sansa admired him for being so strong, but part of her wondered if the man was capable of feeling any type of emotion. But as always with him, she keeps her thoughts to herself and listens to what he has to teach her. It's only after a few days she had realized how much Rhaenys was doing and taking care of in the house, how privileged Sansa had been. It had only served as a reminder that Rhaenys truly had been the lady of the house, and Sansa only a brought-up piece.

But now, she is the lady of the house, fully. It saddens her that she doesn't get to leave the mansion as much but she has to care for everyone now. And even though Aryan has been avoiding her for a month, she's determined on having down for breakfast this morning. She made breakfast herself, relieving Priya and Samita of their duties for once. She places the last plate at her own seat, glancing to the one in front of her, the one Rhaenys used to occupy and her heart aches in her chest. Sansa had never lost anyone before, and yes, she wasn't close to the young girl, but she had always been kind to Sansa, had welcomed into her home, and Sansa had been thankful for that. But now, the seat has been empty for a month but Sansa could still taste the ashes of the funeral pyre on her tongue. It hurt too much at first, but now the taste is almost a habit on the back of her throat.

One last look at the table now set, and she nods to herself before leaving the dining room to go find Aryan. She goes up the stairs and stops for a second before knocking on his bedroom door. He doesn't answer immediately, and it gives Sansa time to gather herself slightly. Aryan opens the door and he's already dressed for work, not a single hair out of place as usual, not even the light dark circle under his eyes fail to lessen his perfect facial features.

« Good morning. » She says, hopeful and with a smile. They hadn't talked last night, in the car, after she found him in town, and he had gone to his room without a word. « Breakfast is ready. I've made some paratha if you want.. » like Rhaenys used to make for you, she doesn't say but the look Aryan gives her lets her know that he knows she means it as a kind gesture. But his eyes drop to the floor and he clears his throat and walks past Sansa with a quiet i'm sorry and Sansa is left with the same emptiness as always. She keeps her chin up, listening to Aryan's departing steps, her heart steady in her chest. She doesn't know how long she stays there, in the cold doorway, wondering if the silence could take her already.

« Ma'am ? »

Priya's voice startles her and she almost jumps turning to the young girl. She's watching Sansa with an uneasiness that's been here for a few days now, and Sansa has yet to find out why. She turns to her, and gives Priya her best smile. « Yes, Priya ? »

Priya quickly looks around, and takes a step closer to Sansa, leaning in. « There's someone asking for you at the back entrance. »

Someone asking for her.. Could it be ? Could it be … Hope grows in her, and Sansa quickly turns to go back downstairs, a smile appearing as her feet take her to the back of the mansion. She's running by the time she reaches the small patio, and the hope she had felt for less than a minute, the genuine smile that her face hadn't felt in a long time, the new-born happiness that had bloomed in her chest died as quickly when she sees Lyanna ma'am stand behind the glass door leading to the patio. Sansa almost stops in her tracks, hoping Lyanna doesn't notice the disappointment on her face before she opens the door and steps out. The air is cold outside, the rain is still pouring hard and Sansa looks to her right, seeing the carriage Lyanna came in. Through the small window, she spots Val, and she knows then that something's wrong.

« Lyanna ma'am ? » Sansa says, breaking the tense silence. « Is everything alright ? »

Lyanna shakes her head, in disapprovement and tears her eyes away from Sansa. « Love, it makes us do many mistakes. I had warned you though. But I guess it's my own fault for thinking you were better than me. »

Sansa frowns, in confusion. « What, I... I haven't done anything.. »

« You went to Jon. You told him about your feelings. »

« I.. » Sansa doesn't know what she can say, she doesn't know how Lyanna knows about this, but she feels trapped somehow. Her tongue is heavy in her mouth, with the weight of her broken heart. Yes, she had told Jon, but he hadn't expressed his feelings so is it really that bad ?

Lyanna looks around, at the house and then back at Sansa, her eyes cold. « I had promised myself, sworn that I would never come back here. But today.. because of you, I had to break my vow. »

Sansa feels really uneasy now, her chest is getting tight and she feels every breath she takes is shorter than the last one. « I don't understand.. »

« Jon is the illegitimate son of Arjun and I. » Lyanna states, her voice hard and sharp, like a knife at Sansa's throat. « All his life he's resented his father and I for abandoning him and looked for revenge. He got that with you. He used you to get to his father, to destroy this family.»

The words echo in Sansa's mind, she tries to make sense of them, tries to process them the best way she can but no, she can't accept it. No, Jon wouldn't, he wouldn't do it, he couldn't, no, no, no ! Sansa shakes her head, blinking back the tears.

« No. You're lying. » She decides to say, and that's her truth then. Lyanna is lying, she has to be. « He loves me. Jon loves me, I've seen it in his eyes. »

« He's been lying to you since the beginning. You've only been a pawn in his game. » Lyanna pushes the lie but Sansa doesn't want it.

« He's made mistakes, but we all do. I know he loves me, our love is real. »

« You're educated, and sensible, and he's a boy from the bad side of town. In his life, no woman holds a value outside of his bed, and he didn't even want that from you. All he wants is the public humiliation of Arjun Talwar. And your blind love has allowed him just that, that's the truth, accept it. I'm here to ask you not to let it go further. If you leave your husband, and go to Jon, he wouldn't accept you. You should love someone who respects you, and love you more than you can. You're not his love Sansa, you're his vengeance. And Jon only loves his vengeance. »

Sansa tries to stop the tears but she can't move, she's frozen in her spot and she can only sob as she watches Lyanna leave and walk the short distance between the patio and her carriage under the heavy rain. Sansa sees the empty space the woman occupied moments ago and wonders if everything is ever going to stay for her. Is everything ever going to be as empty as this ? Is her heart ever going to be full ? Is she meant for a life of sadness and emptiness ? What has she done to deserve this ?

~~

Jon is sitting on the edge of his bed while Rahul sits on a chair in front of him, in Jon's bedroom. The air is tense and heavy with Jon's confession. Only his shoulders feel lighter but the feeling comes and goes, won't stay Nothing ever stays with him after all, he thinks, not even relief.

« And this is everything. » Jon sighs. He tries a glance towards Rahul, and isn't surprised to find angry eyes directed at him. Rahul's jaw is so clenched, Jon is surprised he hasn't broken it yet. « I know I shouldn't have used you, or anyone.. but I'm tired of all of this. I'm afraid this has gone too far. »

Rahul gets up from his seat, and turns around, walking to the window, looking out. Outside the city is buzzing like any other day, unaware of the schemes hidden behind walls. Jon doesn't know how long he stares at Rahul's tense back, and his room is cold, not even the blinding rays of sun help in warming up the scene.

« You used me... » Rahul speaks, finally, and Jon lets out the air he was holding. He was expecting this. He knew Rahul would be like this, the man had too much rage in his heart to not react this way. « Fine. You used me. It's fine, » Rahul turns around, facing Jon once again, « but I won't stop now. With the spark that you gave me, I'll burn this city to the ground. Like you've said, it's gone too far now, and we can't go back. »

« Rahul, I've told you everything, so you do stop everything. I … I've met my brother and I don't- »

« If you really cared, you wouldn't have put me in this position in the first place, Jon ! » Rahul snaps and Jon stands too. « It's too late to have regrets now. Nothing can stop me. Just remember, all of their blood, your father's, your brother's, even his stupid wife's, the one that fell for you, their blood is on your hands. »

« Rahul.You are like a brother to me, I could give my life for you, and this is why I'm telling you all of this, but if you touch one hair off her head, if you dare touching Sansa, I swear on my life, I'll throw our relationship away and chop your head off myself. »

«Jon.. » Rahul starts, and Jon feels the threat in his voice, and his fists close on their own, ready to take the next step, ready to stop Rahul at any cost ; but he doesn't have to, for his door opens suddenly, letting in Val, out of breath and looking distressed. Jon frowns at her, wondering what she could be doing here. They hadn't really seen each other this last month, and he knows it's unfair of him but he has been unfair to a lot of people.

« Val ? » Jon says, hoping helplessly her arrival will diffuse the situation with Rahul. But the universe has never been so kind with him.

« She's told her. Lyanna, she's told Sansa everything.. Your plan, everything, she knows ! » Val lets out, her body heaving trying to catch her breath.

« What ? » Jon exclaims, hs whole body going cold like he's been dead for hours.

Val nods, leaning against the wall. « It's true.. She's told Sansa everything. After you came by the haveli last night, Arjun sahab, he … I'm sorry, Jon.. »

Jon doesn't wait for her to continue. He runs out of his bedroom , runs down the stairs and doesn't stop once he's in the streets, doesn't stop when he feels the raindrops on his skin, no, he doesn't stop when he bumps into a few people, nor when his feet start to hurt from running that much, no. He only stops once he reaches the fence of the Talwar estate. He stops in front of the high metal bars, shakes the front gate keeping him out, silently begging for entrance, for a way in, but nothing works. He looks around, and spots the high walls, and the tall tree that'll help him get to the top. Climbing the tree is easy and jumping is easy too, and he runs through the vast garden leading to the mansion. He's about to burst through the doors, when he spots a figure standing on the top balcony.

Sansa.

The name escapes his lips like a plea, a call coming from his heart, and maybe she heard it, maybe she felt him – he'd like to think it's the latter – but he finds her eyes sad, even in the rain, he can see the tears, and she's looking down on him, pain clear on her face. He wishes he could speak, explain, he wishes he could come up to meet her, and tell her everything, that he's sorry, that he never meant for it to go this far, but he is frozen his body unable to take another step. They stare at each other for a while, the rain engulfing them both, the distance between them a painful reminder of everything that keeps them apart. His mouth opens a few times but each time, no words come out, and he feels even worse ; but what words would soften the truth ? What could he possibly say that would lessen the tragedy of everything he's done ? Sansa shakes her head at him, as if she can hear his thoughts, before turning around and running back inside, where Jon can't reach her. His hand moves, and his mouth wants to call for her, but no sound comes out, because his body knows she's not his to have. He stays there for a few more moments, under the rain, praying that the pour can clean him of his sins but no, no amount of rain will be able to make him brand new.

He doesn't know how he manages to get back to the town, his vision is blurry and he feels numb all over but he finds himself wandering through the empty parts of town, and when he looks up, he's once again in front of the haveli, and he almost wants to laugh at how ironic life has become. Of all the places he could have gone, of course this one is where he ends up. Climbing up the stairs, his pain has never felt so heavy as it does right now. He reaches the top and finds the doors open, and it's like a bubble has been popped. The bubble of hurt and pain he was in has been popped and he's no longer floating on a wave of hope ; he hears the music and the tinkling of ankle bracelets around him. His eyes manage to focus on the scene before him, his mother dancing as her students watch. The moment he sees her, he remembers the anger, the hatred, he remembers that she's the real responsible for all of this. He wants to hurt her, he wants to rip her heart out of her chest, he wants to take away everything she holds dear, everything she loves so she'll feel what he does right now. But he doesn't, all he manages to do is take another step before he crumbles to the floor in sobs. Soon enough, arms are around him, holding him, and he pushes them away, tries to pull out of the embrace but he gives up and lets himself be held as his world falls apart. For once. Just this once. He'll hate Lyanna in the morning, when his heart won't feel as bruised and his tears have dried, he'll hate her then. But now, he needs his mother to comfort him.

It's a noise that wakes him. Something breaking far away. He opens his eyes, and he feels something smooth under him, a cushion and he rises, slowly, he's feeling disoriented, he doesn't remember how he got here, whose room is this he wonders but another crashing sound is heard and he doesn't have time to dwell on it. He leaves the room he's in and finds himself amongst chaos. Girls are running through the newly lit corridors in a hurry, and Jon frowns, wondering what's going on. Running to the closest window, he sees the streets and his heart skips a few beats at the sight before him. Men dressed in all white and all wearing a topi are going up the streets, some holding torches, some holding swords. Jon immediately understands what's happening.

I'll burn this city to the ground.

Everything from earlier comes back to him full force like a brick hitting a glass window and in a second, he's back running around the haveli, trying to avoid bumping into the young girls. He finds Lyanna downstairs, and he sees her trying to comfort some of her apprentices from across the grand room. He takes a step forward towards her but she shakes her head at him, and mouths go. Another day, he would have argued with her, but right now, he can't, he doesn't have time to waste, he has too much on his mind. He has to find Sansa, and Aryan, and take them to safety, and then he'll find Rahul and make him stop this nonsense.

~~

The rain has stopped and the whole mansion is quiet, not a sound to disrupt the silence, except for the motions of Sansa moving the books in boxes. She's moving with a passive mood, slow and lazy, and her heart and head somewhere else. She can't believe that they're leaving in a few weeks, leaving this town, her new home. Arjun sahab had finally won, but Sansa knows there was no reason to argue now ; Rhaenys' health condition was the only reason they hadn't left sooner. Rhaenys.. Sansa misses the young girl so much. Especially now, when Aryan is still so distant to her, Sansa wishes she could ask the girl how to reach out to her brother. Sansa knew the true nature of their relationship, and she knew it was wrong, and something tells her that Aryan and Rhaenys knew it too but still. Sansa doesn't know what she can do now to have Aryan talk to her, and something tells her that she might never be able to.

A distant crash breaks her train of thoughts. She frowns, her heart beating a little faster. She's all alone in the mansion. Raj is out with Priya at the market to pick up groceries for tonight's dinner, and Aryan is at work. Arjun sahab has left days ago to prepare the new mansion in the city they'll be moving to. So there's no one. Another crashing sound and Sansa jumps and drops the book she was holding on the table. She walks out of the office and looks around the hall. Empty. She takes a few steps towards the staircases about to go up and check if everything is alright, when she hears her name.

« Sansa. »

She turns around to find Jon standing at the other end of the hall. One look at him and she knows he's been crying, his eyes are puffy and red rimmed, and his cheeks are flushed and his hair in a disheveled state. She's reminded of a few hours earlier, when she had been standing on the balcony, under the rain, wondering if her life could get any worse than this, begging the downpour to clean her of everything bad, begging for a new birth so she can breathe normally again, and then he had appeared. He had come through the garden like a dream, like a vision of light dressed in white, and at first she had wanted to reach out, go downstairs and meet him and embrace him and ask him to take her away, but Lyanna's words still rang in her mind and she had been unable to move. And one look at his face and she had known, Lyanna hadn't been lying. That's what she remembers now, as she looks at Jon and armors her heart in her chest to be strong.

« What other pain have you come to inflict now ? » She snaps at him, trying desperately to not focus on the sad eyes looking back at her.

« Sansa, I.. » He takes a few steps closer and his fragrance comes to her and she almost falls for it then, the smell of burned coal and leather and iron reminding of her of all the good things in her life. « Please, forgive me. » His voice is low, like a prayer and Sansa doesn't know if she'll be able to remain strong if he keeps at it.

« That's all ? That's all you've come to say ? » She retorts. « After everything, that's all you can say ? »

Jon shakes his head and lowers his eyes, sighing. « What difference does it make now ? You've already made up your mind, haven't you ? »

It's Sansa's turn to shake her head, and she wants to yell, she wants to scream a him, to hit him with all her strength but she can't find it in her, she only let the tears fall on her cheeks. « I loved you so much. I would have put everything away for you, Jon. I would have done anything for you. And n return, you couldn't even be honest with me. Was it so difficult to tell me the truth, to be honest for once in your life ? »

« I wasn't always lying. But Sansa.. All my life, I had filled my heart with one thing. Hatred. I betrayed everyone, played with people, manipulated them just to seek revenge towards a man who didn't deserve my attention, but then you came into my life. You threw all the hatred out of me, and filled my heart with love, you were changing my heart, and.. and it scared me. » He walks closer to her and Sansa feels her façade crumbling with each step of his, her heart beating a little faster with each inch less between them. « Your love scared me for how strong it was. Everything I've ever wanted from this house, you were the one who gave it to me. I thought of telling you the truth but.. if I had, I would have lost you. And I did, anyway.. »

She sniffles and wipes the tears from her cheeks, really just to occupy her hands and stop herself from reaching over to him and take him in her arms. « Did you really think I'd never find out ? »

Jon sighs and raises his eyes to meet hers. « It doesn't matter now. We aren't meant to be, Sansa. This is God's will. »

« And what about my will ? » She says, and this is time it's her that takes a step closer to him and they're so close now, she can feel his breath on her face and it's warm and it brings a little peace to her. « What about your will , Jon ? Why do we have to settle for what life wants for us ? What about what we want ? »

He stares at her but doesn't answer, but she sees in his eyes the inner fight he's going through. « Did you ever love me ? » It's selfish of her to ask, but she has to know, a part of her has to.

The corner of his lips tug upwards and he gives her a smile, a sad one but still, she'll take it. « If I answer this.. then questions will be raised about the source of power behind your love. »

Sansa lightly punches his chest, she means it in a violent way, wants him to hurt but her hand stay on his chest and he grabs it gently and then she can't help herself anymore and she wraps her other arms around him and hugs him, like she's always wanted to, for so long. « Why can't you give a simple answer for once, Jon ? » His arms come around her and he hugs her tight, so tight and he buries his face in her neck and she feels him breathe her in. She feels his lips move in the crook of her neck and there's no sound but she knows now. Deep in her heart, she knows and she closes her eyes, wanting to stay in this moment forever.

But peace never lasts and another crashing sound disturbs this moment and Sansa reluctantly lets go of Jon as he raises his head towards the sound. She sees the worry on his face appear in an instant, his furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips, it's strange that she knows him so well, like she's made of him and he's made of her, even after all this time apart, she knows him and who he is and what he feels before he does.

« We have to go. We have to find Aryan, and get somewhere safe. » Jon tells her and he grabs her hand and pulls her with him, running towards the back of the mansion. He leads her through the back entrance and once out, Sansa notices people entering the property through the broken gate and she gasps.

« Jon, what's going on ? » She asks as Jon takes her through the garden, knowing the way well apparently. Jon doesn't answer her immediately. He helps climb over the fence and then jumps first so he can catch her and then he's walking a little slower, and only then, does he answer her.

« I told Rahul everything. And now he's making me pay by burning the whole town and coming after everyone I love.. » He says and Sansa's heart drops because god be good, this can't be real. This can't...

Running back to town proves complicated as everyone is running too, in every directions and Jon and Sansa both try to go as fast as they can, to the newspaper building. But the hardest is to avoid some of Rahul's men, easily recognizable as they're all dressed in white and not catch their attention. Jon takes them through small streets and he always walks in front of Sansa, protecting her from view, and she mentally thanks him for it, squeezing his hand every now and then as they go. They manage to reach the street of the newspaper but they stop dead in their tracks as they see smoke and flames coming through the building. A large crowd is in front of it, all struggling to get in. There are bodies laying still on the ground next to the crowd and Sansa recognizes her friends from the office and she chokes back a sob. Jon brings her into his chest, hiding her eyes from the terrible sight. But it is now printed in her brain, and nothing could change it.

« Sansa ? »

She hears her name and she pushes herself off of Jon to turn around. She sees Aryan leaning on a wall near the building, holding his side with a worried look on his face. She leaves Jon to rush to his side and she takes his hand only to see the blood underneath. She turns back to Jon and he's watching Aryan's wound with a look that matches hers.

« You have to go », Aryan pants, « they're after us, just.. just go ! Take her to safety ! »

« We're not leaving you ! » Sansa retorts and she looks at Jon again, silently asking him to convince Aryan. Which Jon does but in his way. Placing Aryan's arm around his shoulders, he gestures at Sansa to do the same, and she does, and together, they help Aryan to get back up on his feet.

« We have to go to the haveli, we have to find Lyanna ! » Jon says and Sansa nods and then, they're off in the small dark street, trying to be as fast as they can and avoid attention. The streets are mayhem and there are people running in every direction and Sansa almost falls a few times under Aryan's weight. They manage to reach the haveli and Sansa almost wants to cry at the state of the place she used to love spending her afternoons at. The place is burning red and orange and Sansa can see many of the high windows shattered and there are screams and yells echoing and her heart aches because why ? Why is Rahul raining hell on this town, his home ? Just because of Jon ? They're friends, how could he-

« Jon ! » Sansa turns to her right and she spots Lyanna running down the stairs to meet them. She grabs Jon by the side of his face, with tears in her eyes. « You have to go ! It's only getting worse ! »

« Come with us.. » Jon says and Sansa hears the plea in his voice, and he sounds like a child then, like a child begging for his mother for another treat, and Sansa's heart goes to him and she wishes she could comfort him but she's holding Aryan up and Jon is too.

« I can't leave my hindu girls alone.. » Lyanna explains and Sansa sees the quick glance gives her and Sansa feels a sudden shame for it. « There's a train leaving soon, catch it and never come back here.. »

« Ammi.. » Jon tries but Lyanna shakes her head at him. She puts her hand on top of his head, and Jon closes his eyes as she places a silent kiss on his forehead.

« Maybe in another life, I'll be a better mother to you. » She whispers against his skin and Sansa feels like she's intruding, like she's not supposed to see this. But then Lyanna looks at all three of them, her eyes iron strong, and Sansa recognizes the woman she admires so much. « But for now, go. »

Jon watches his mother, and Sansa sees the reluctance in his whole body and Jon lets go of Aryan for a second, and Sansa feels the fear settling in her body, fear that Jon might stay too, that he might leave her too. But no, Jon bends down to touch his mother's feet, and Lyanna's hand drops to the top of his head and Sansa thinks she hears a whimper coming from Jon but she'll never ask. Then Jon is up again, half of Aryan's weight on his shoulders and he's turning them away and they make their way down the stairs and Sansa dares a look towards her lover and she'll never speak of the tears at the corner of his eyes or the way his bottom lip is slightly quivering.

Making their way to the station is a struggle and getting to the train proves to be even more difficult. The train station is packed and Jon and Sansa both have to let go of Aryan otherwise they'll just get dragged and stumbled upon. With her hand tightly held by Jon's, Sansa is holding to Aryan's wrist as they shuffle through the crowd. Jon desperately pushes his way through the mass of people around them and manage to get them closer to the train, but now it's finding a wagon with room for them that is proving to be difficult. Jon is trying to look for one that has enough room but it's easier said than done.

« Jon ! » Aryan suddenly yells behind Sansa and she and Jon both turn around and look at him but he's not looking at them, he's pointing at something behind him and it takes Sansa a few seconds but then... a large amount of men, like the ones who had been attacking the mansion, are walking towards them, pushing people as they do, holding swords, and this time Rahul is at the front, leading them. A machiavellian sparkle in his eyes or is it just the flames reflecting in his eyes, Sansa can't tell, but Jon tugs her towards him.

« Get inside the wagon, go with Aryan, don't stop ! I'll stall some time ! » He tells her and his voice is rough, tough and she doesn't think she's ever seen him looking this serious.

« But what about you ? » She hears Aryan say behind her. « We can't leave you here, they'll kill you ! » Sansa wants to agree, wants to beg Jon to come with them but Jon is already shaking his head.

« They're my people, they'll never hurt me. You go, I'll find you when I can.. » Sansa feels the tough squeeze Jon gives her hand. And she opens her mouth, ready to plead, but all that comes out is a soft, weak Jon and his eyes flicker to hers and they go soft then, and she wants to smile at the thought that she's able to melt the iron in his blood but she's frozen, the air in her lungs vanished. « I'll find you when I can. » He repeats, this time his attention fully on her, and she finds the strength in her to nod and she closes her eyes when he drops a kiss to her forehead committing the feeling of his lips to her memory. And in the end, it'll feel like everything, the closest to a happy ending.

Jon pushes them inside the wagon and runs off, ready to fight anyone that will stand in their way, and Sansa can't find herself to go further in the wagon ; she stays in the doorway, glue herself to the handle, watching Jon's silhouette disappearing in the crowd, watching as he comes to a halt in front of Rahul, watching as they start fighting. She wants to yell and go herself to stop them, and she's about to, one of her feet is already up in the air, ready to step out but she feels a hand grabbing her, pulling her. One look back and it's Aryan, holding onto her, and she pulls back on her hand, fighting for him to let her go but he doesn't. The whistle announcing the train's departure is deafening as it starts moving slowly at first, but Sansa knows it'll gain speed soon, and Jon needs to be with them before it does.

« Jon ! » She calls on top of her lungs, yelling for him, hoping he hears her over the sound of chaos around them. He does, his body stopping itself from hitting the men next to him. « Jon, run ! » She yells this time and there's nothing holding her back from screaming what her heart has been yearning for now. « Run, Jon, run ! »

And it's a risk, but she's willing to take it, so she extends her hand towards him and maybe it sets something in him, because he lets go of the man he was holding and starts running towards her, avoiding as many people as he can while catching up to the train. A smile breaks on Sansa's face, and she thinks that maybe they'll finally get to be together. He can make it, he can, she can see the determination on his face as he gets closer to her, ready to meet her as she's leaning almost fully out of the train, her hand out for him to take. Only a few feet and he'll be able to grab it, just a few more steps and he'll be with her.

The happiness she feels when he does grab her hand is unmatched and she grins and he does too and she holds onto him like a lifeline and she's ready to pull him up but then suddenly, Rahul appears behind Jon, jumping out of another wagon door, grabbing Jon by the shoulder, tugging him back. Jon's hand slip out of Sansa and she wants to reach out and yell no ! give him back ! But she can't move, her hand falling by her side as she watches Rahul stab Jon in the back. She can't move nor speak as she watches the blood pour of Jon's lips and his body, as Rahul keeps tearing him apart with his blade. The whole time, Rahul has his eyes set on Sansa as he keeps Jon's frame close to him, and Sansa feels the hate in his eyes but also the sadness, and if she couldn't, the tears in the muslim's eyes are proof enough. Rahul lets Jon's body drop to the ground and then turns around and leave, like a ghost through the smoke. Sansa's eyes are stuck on Jon's frame on the ground, as the train starts to gain speed, and her knees give out from under her and she drops to the floor of the train, watching as more distance is put between her and the love of her life. She doesn't know if she hallucinates it or if it's true, but she thinks she can see the hint of a smile on Jon's lips. If he's still alive, maybe he can still reach her, maybe he can.. So she extends her hand out one last time, silently begging for him to get up and come to her, as always, even when she knows he can't, he won't and when she sees his hand move slightly, trying to reach out to her, she breaks down and she lets the tears pour out of her eyes, to the sound of her heart shattering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback always helps me ! After this one : MODERN DAY JONSA YESSS, who's excited ?


	7. Modern Day - 2019/2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone :) long time no see  
> I have no excuses for how late this chapter is other than I've been lazy, I've been dealing with my anxiety during this quarantine/lockdown and it's been hard and writing was the last thing on my mind but I managed to get this baby finished. I am feeling very emotional at the thought that this is the end. This fanfic is over. This chapter was the first thing that came to mind when I first thought of this fanfic. And now almost five months later, here we are :)   
> I want to thank everyone who's read this, everyone who's left comments, your support means the world to me you have no idea, I am so thankful for all of you.   
> And to Gabi, my sweet wonderful Gabi, thank you so much. Thank you doesn't even begin to cover how thankful and grateful I am for you. Thank you for helping with this fic, proof reading chapters, listening to me rant about it, and helping me with it period. I love you so much. This is for you. This whole fanfic wouldn't have come to life if it wasn't for you. This is my gift to you, this happy ending. I love you. 
> 
> And now, enjoy reading everyone !

**Modern day thanksgiving 2019**

Jon cracks his knuckles before scanning his laptop screen for final edits of his first draft. Writing this short story for the newspaper might be an amazing opportunity for him to finally launch himself as a real author. He doesn't know if he'll be chosen yet, he knows some of his classmates are also trying out for the contest but Jon prays he'll get chosen. His classmates are talented yes and Jon really wishes that every single one of them gets a chance at being a professional writer, but right now, Jon really needs this. He really does.

The door barges open and Jon doesn't need to turn around to know that a tired Robb comes in their shared dorm room. He hears a large thud and then a big  _ poof  _ sound, usually synonymous of Robb falling on his bed on the other side of the room.

« Tough day ? » Jon asks, still looking at his screen. It's finals season, and it's usually the worst time for law students, Jon found out about that early in their first year of university. Robb is a good student, always has straight As and at the top of his classes, but his nerves always get the better of him during finals season.

« I hate law. » Robb mumbles into his pillow.

« You say that a lot. » Jon chuckles.

« I mean it more than usual today. » Robb groans. He sits up slightly and turns towards Jon. « I just want it to be next weekend already and be on the train home. »

Jon smiles at his friend and turns around in his chair. « You and half that school, man. »

«Have you decided what you’re going to do for the holidays? » Jon's eyes drop to the floor and that's an answer enough. « You haven't talked to them, haven't you ? »

« I wouldn't even know what to say to them.. » Jon admits.

« For a writer, that's unfortunate. » Robb jokes but Jon doesn't laugh. He knows he's being a coward and possibly a bad son, but he's not sure of what he's actually supposed to do.. « You know my offer still stands. »

« I know man, and thank you but I'm good, I'll spend the winter break here. »

« Jon.. You can't spend two weeks here all alone. That's just .. sad. » Robb sighs and Jon turns back to his desk.

« I don't want to see them, Robb. » Jon states, but it's not what he means. He knows he can be honest with Robb, they're best friends but there are still things Jon keeps to himself. Things like his anxiety towards sending his draft, his anger towards his parents. Both of them.

« Okay. Just know that if you want to stay with us, my family is okay with it and my parents are more than happy to host you. »

« I know, Robb. » He turns back to his best friend and attempts a smile. « Thank you. » These two words don't begin to gather everything Jon is thankful for. Robb has done too much for Jon for only two words to amount to it all. But he is thankful and he hopes that one day he'll be able to truly thank Robb.

« Anytime. » Robb shrugs and he lies back down, and in a minute, he's asleep, snoring softly and Jon chuckles and goes back to editing of his draft. His phone buzzes on the side and he checks it but then wishes he hadn't when he sees the text from his mother.

**Mom :**

_ You're sure you don't want to come to Christmas ? … It could be good for you sweetheart.. _

Jon rolls his eyes at the words, anger soon filling him. Good ? _ Good  _ ?  _ For him  _ ? Jon wants to scream at the thought. Jon is certain that meeting his father and his new family after years of not knowing them will  _ not _ be good. Jon remembers the letter that had come through the mail that one morning last summer, and how each word had made him so angry, it had set a fire in his core, a fire he had never known existed. His father Rhaegar had written to him after all these years, asking if Jon was up for a meeting, to see him and his step siblings. Jon had wanted to punch a wall, because  _ obviously _ he had met someone else and started a new life after meeting his mother Lyanna. Jon had been fuming, and when he had told his mom, she had surprisingly agreed that it could be a good thing. Jon had thrown a fit, like a child and not a twenty-one years old, and that had resulted in a fight with his mom and every word out of his mouth had burned him and every tear on Lyanna's cheeks had been like a dagger to his heart.

He hadn't properly talked to her since he had left for university, about three months ago, and when he had texted her saying he was going to stay here for the break, she had called him numerous times but Jon hadn't picked up once. She had stopped eventually and part of Jon hates that she has given up but part of him also knows that it's his own fault.

Another buzz sound echoes through the room but it's not Jon's, and for some reason, Jon hates phones at this moment. He wishes he could live at a time where smartphones didn't exist. Jon looks around for Robb's phone and after a quick search, he finds it in his bag. Jon tries to nudge Robb to wake him up, but nothing works. Jon knows this little ritual; after every exam, Robb calls his sister Sansa to let her know how it went. Robb and her are very close, and Jon will lie if he says he's not a tiny bit jealous of their bond ; before he knew he had step siblings , and he'd hear Robb talk about his four younger ones, Jon wished he had siblings of his own to talk to. But now...

« Robb ? » Jon tries, the phone still buzzing in his hand. « Robb.. your sister is calling.. »

«'m sleep.. » Robb groans and he turns away from Jon and Jon doesn't know what to do. Robb’s phone is still buzzing, letting him know that Sansa is very insistent on talking to her brother.

Jon doesn't know, but something tells him he should probably answer. It'll be quick, he'll just tell Sansa that her brother is sleeping right now, he'll hang up and get back to his editing. Taking a deep breath in, Jon answers, ready to make this as quick as possible.

« You didn't call me when your exam ended, is everything okay ?» Immediately, Sansa's voice comes to Jon's ears, loud and clear, and he has heard it before, from the other room or muffled but not like this and something takes place in Jon and he's not sure what it is but it's there.

« Hum.. It's Jon. » His voice shakes a little and he doesn't know why really, but it does and it makes him a little sick.

« Oh.. » There's a silence on the other end. « Where's Robb ? » There's a certain concern in her voice and Jon feels the urge to reassure her.

« He's fine, he's just sleeping right now. He had a late night last night and he's very tired from studying. »

He hears a sigh and he can imagine her closing her eyes and shaking her head - and it’s strange, how vividly it comes to his mind, like he’s seen it before, seen it a hundred times, even though he hasn’t. 

“I told him he should have gone to bed earlier last night. I swear, sometimes I feel like  _ I _ am the older sibling.” There’s a little laugh at the end of her sentence and it soothes Jon’s nerves in some way and he’s slightly taken aback by it. “Can you make sure he wakes up in an hour and have something to eat then? I know him and he won’t take care of himself properly unless someone makes him, and I can’t be that person from miles away, so can you please do it? Please Jon?” 

Jon notices how his heart speeds up at her use of words, and the little plea in Sansa’s tone, and he finds himself sighing in content. “I wish my siblings were like you..” He lets out and bites his lip once the words are out. He shouldn’t have said that, he really shouldn’t have, he does not want to see his siblings, he doesn’t want to meet them, he doesn’t want to have siblings - so why is his heart longing to have someone care for him in the same way that Sansa does for Robb? 

“Oh? You have siblings? Robb never mentioned that..” Sansa says and Jon kind of wants to ask why would Robb mention Jon to Sansa at all but he decides that it’s too awkward and instead goes with an answer to her question. 

“It’s hum.. It’s complicated but yes, I do have siblings, half siblings really but still.” The words burn his tongue, and there’s a bitter taste in the back of his throat, but he pushes it away and focuses on Sansa’s voice on the other line. 

“Oh.. Do you want to talk about it? I have time right now, and since Robb is asleep..” She offers and Jon wants to scream _ yes _ , doesn’t know why he wants to tell her about it, doesn’t why it’s so easy to talk to her, but he can’t stop himself. 

“I don’t want to bore you with my family problems.” 

“You won’t.” There’s a shuffling on her end and Jon wonders if she’s laying in bed. “Now, do tell.” 

Jon settles on his bed and leans back on his pillow, the soft snores of Robb the only other sound left in the room. “My father.. he left my mom when she was pregnant with me. And last summer,I received a letter from him saying he wants me to meet his new family, my half siblings and he wants to be in my life now and I just… I just don’t understand why now. He had 20 years to do that. Why now? I don’t want to see him, or to meet my siblings. He wants me to come by his house and spend Christmas with his new family, and like, how can I ? He even invited my mom and even she thinks it’s a good idea, so that way, we can be this happy family but..” Jon exhales loudly and pinches the bridge of his nose to stop himself from yelling - or crying, he’s not sure, he just needs a second. “ I just don’t want him to mess up my life with his presence more than he already has with his absence.” 

There’s a silence on the other line and Jon already hates himself, for speaking so much. He shouldn’t have spoken so much about his private life, and to a stranger? Okay, she is Robb’s sister so not a complete stranger, but she doesn’t know him personally and now she knows more about him than anyone does, not even his mom, and he feels exposed, bare, for her to see. 

“Have you talked to him?” Sansa asks him. “ Do you know why he left in the first place?” 

Jon will lie if he says this questions hasn’t haunted him for most of his life so far. As a child, he hadn’t been bothered by the fact that he only had his mom, it was only when other kids started making fun of him for not having a dad that he started to really think about it. And after a long discussion with his mother, he had decided then, at 9 years old, that he hated his father. 

“No, I haven’t.” Jon answers, his voice shaking slightly. “I have never talked to him directly. I haven’t even replied to his letter..” 

“Have you talked to your mom?” 

“Barely.. She wants me to meet him and get to know his family..” 

“Well, from what you’ve told me, I can tell you're angry which is totally understandable since you never had any closure with your relationship with your father. There are some relationships that we have to grieve to be able to move on but it’s hard to do so when you don’t get closure from them. And I think you’re hoarding a lot of resentment that’s fueled by that pent up anger that you’ve had since you were a child. You feel abandoned and you don’t want to face the man who did this to you, which is normal. But maybe.. just an idea, maybe you should see him?” 

Jon hears, no,  _ listens _ to what Sansa says and each word take its time to reach him, and by the end of it he feels a little dizzy but he blinks a few time and takes a few deep breaths in before answering. And he hates how childish he sounds, how weak he sounds. “ But I don’t want to.” 

There’s a soft sigh. “A lot of things that are good for us aren’t what we want, Jon. It may look horrible but I promise you, you need it more than you know.” 

It’s Jon’s turn to sigh and again he closes his eyes. “ If it goes wrong, I blame you.” 

“If it does, I promise I won’t ever advice anyone ever.” And she chuckles and Jon thinks it’s his new favourite sound. 

“If it does go right however, I’ll definitely buy you coffee.”Jon blurts out, as if his brain has a mind of its own and he doesn’t know how to stop it. 

“If it works out, I hope I get more than coffee for that!’ Sansa laughs and it makes Jon laugh too and he’s amazed by the fact that he’s laughing. With a girl. On the phone. That was definitely not how he had imagined his evening. 

“Okay okay, miss Stark, you’ll get more than a coffee.” 

“I hope so, Jon.” He hears something on the other line and then Sansa’s tone changes. “ Jon, I have to go, my roommate just came home. But do talk to your father okay? And get Robb to eat something? Please?” 

“I will. Thank you , Sansa.” He says and he hopes she knows he means it with all of his heart.

“You’re welcome, Jon.” He can hear the smile in her voice and a second later, the call ends but Jon’s own smile doesn’t. 

~~

“It’s a two weeks break, Robb, what on earth have you brought in your suitcase for it to be this heavy?” Sansa hears them before she can see them and her smile grows once they come into view. She’s running down the stairs and there he is, a big brother, her hero, her first best friend. 

“Robb!” She calls, running into him, and the next second, he has his arms open ready to catch her as she jumps in his arms. “I’ve missed you so much!” She says, hugging her brother as tight as she can. 

“I’ve missed you too, little one!” He says into her hair and gives her a kiss there, and then puts her back on her feet. He takes a moment to look at her, and shakes his head. “You look so grown. University has really changed you..” 

Sansa rolls her eyes at him. “ Robb, please it’s only been four months. Being a freshman in uni’ is quite uneventful.” 

Robb slings his arm around her shoulders as they start walking into the house. “Now, I don’t believe that, my little sister is going to be the best art consultant in the country.” 

Sansa chuckles and shrugs slightly. “ I don’t know about that, art history is really hard.” 

“But you’re dedicated. You always are.” Robb drops another kiss to the top of her head and then lets go of Sansa to go and hug Arya and Bran and Rickon and their mom and Sansa watches the scene unfold in front of her, a smile on her face. Her father, Eddard Stark, arrives from behind her, and puts his arm around his daughter’s shoulders just like Robb had a minute ago; Sansa leans into the gesture. 

“Everything okay, sweetie?” 

Sansa nods and leans in further in her father’s embrace. “Everything’s perfect, dad.” 

  
  


The movie is playing on the TV screen, with all the Starks sitting in the living room ; Rickon is laying on the floor, his head perched on his snoring dog’s tummy. Bran is sitting on the couch with Arya next to him, her head on his shoulder. Robb is next to them, his hand resting on Sansa’s head, as she’s sitting on the floor, her head resting against his knee. Both Catelyn and Eddard Stark are cuddling together in the loveseat, with Rickon at their feet. Sansa smiles, thinking this is it, this is the happiest she could ever be, her family together, always this close, always this happy, when Robb’s phone vibrates in his pockets. His hand leaves Sansa’s hair and she can’t see it but she feels how tense he suddenly becomes. She looks at him, noticing his furrowed brows as he looks at his phone. 

“Excuse me for a second.” He says as he stands up to go in the corridor. Both Catelyn and Ned stare as he does, and Sansa does too, silently wishing everything is okay. He comes back a minute later, confusion written all over his face. “Sansa? It’s.. It’s for you.” 

She frown but she gets up nonetheless and Robbs hands her his phone. “It’s Jon..” There’s a question hidden in her brother’s words but she’ll answer it later. She had not told Robb that she had talked to Jon that one time, and by the look on Robb’s face, Jon hadn’t either. Something in her likes it, likes that this is their little secret, somehow. Only when she gets to the corridor and has made sure that Robb has gone back to the living room does she put the phone to her ear. 

“Jon?” 

“I can’t do this.” Jon blurts out and she hears his ragged breaths and immediately, her heart breaks a little. “I really can’t , I just .. I can’t..”

“Okay, relax, take a deep breath, okay? Breathe with me. Inhale, hold it, and now exhale on five, okay? One, two, three, four, five, exhale..And again.” 

She listens to him breathe, counts every time, and she only stops when she feels like his breaths are getting normal. “All good?” 

He exhales one more time before answering, “Yes.” He pauses and she can almost see him, with his eyes closed, trying to gather himself. “ Thank you, Sansa.”

“You’re welcome.” She says. “ Now, do you want to tell me what you can’t do?” 

He sighs. “I’m seeing them tomorrow. All of them. His family. My mom is coming too. She’s picking me up tomorrow morning and I just.. I just know everything is going to go wrong.”

“Now that’s not true.” Sansa shakes her head despite the fact that he can’t see her. “You just need to stop focusing on the negative what ifs and start thinking of the positive ones.” 

“How do you always know what to say?” Jon sighs and she hears his little smile in his voice and it makes her smile too. 

“It’s my superpower. But don’t tell anyone, okay?” She jokes and he lets out a little laugh. 

“I won’t.” He chuckles. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you, I just.. I just needed to talk to someone and..” He doesn’t finish his sentence but she knows what he means. 

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I am always here if you need it.”  _ If you need me _ , she almost says, but she stops herself. They’re not that close, and it feels too personal, but almost familiar in a way. 

“I highly doubt Robb would let me ring him every time I need advices from his sister.” 

“I’ll text you.” Sansa says immediately and she bites her bottom lip for being so blunt, but .. something tells her she doesn’t have to be embarrassed. “I mean.. If you’re okay with it.” 

“Of course.” The answer comes almost immediately and she bites her lip, trying to stop her smile from growing but it’s no use. “Does that mean I can text you for something else than advices on how to handle my father ?”

Sansa is thankful that her whole family is in the other room, for she’s sure that they would ask why she’s blushing so hard. “Of course.” She repeats Jon’s words and she hears the little breath he lets out when he hears them and her smile grows bigger. “I should get back, if you don’t want Robb to harass you of texts after I hang up. I’ll get your number from his phone, that way we can talk. Alright?”

“Yes ma’am.” She can almost see his grin and she has to fight herself for hanging up. She’s forgotten about the movie now, she has already seen it and she couldn’t care less. All she wants is to talk to Jon right now. And by the way he doesn’t hang up on her, maybe he feels the same as her. 

“Alright, talk to you soon, Jon.” 

“Okay.” That’s all he says before she hangs up and then proceeds to text herself from Robb’s phone, including Jon’s number details. With a smile on her face, she goes back in the living room and sits back down next to Robb’s feet, and rests her head against his leg like before. 

“Everything good, Sansa?” Her mom asks her and it echoes to her father’s words earlier, and she nods slightly, still smiling. 

“Yes mom, everything is perfect.” And it doesn’t feel like a lie. Because everything truly is. Robb’s hand find its way to her head again, and the gesture is different than earlier, and she knows questions will come and she knows she won’t lie or hide anything, because he’s her brother, he’s her first best friend, he knows her better than she knows herself, and that’s never going to change. She’ll tell him later. Right now, she just wants to focus on the giddiness she feels inside, and the fact that nothing could ever be better. 

~~

Car rides with his mother are never this quiet, it’s usually loud music and the two of them singing as loudly as they can to match the music, but right now, Jon doesn’t feel like talking. He’s not sure if it’s nerves of meeting his father and his family, or the anger he still feels towards his mother for agreeing to it all, but there’s a lump in his throat that won’t go away. He thought he wouldn’t be as nervous after talking to Sansa last night; they had texted a little after his call, and she had made him laugh and fall asleep with a massive grin on his face, and for a good second, before sleep took over, he had felt like everything would be alright. But he had woken up with his stomach tied in knots and not even the sight of his mother had soothed him. He hadn’t been able to say a fully sentence to her and it had been an hour since they’d been on the road. She had tried though, tried to ask him about his essays and finals but nothing had gotten him out of his brooding. He just kept quiet in the passenger seat while Lyanna Snow had slowly given up. If the GPS is right, they still have another twenty minutes to spare before reaching his father’s place. His phone vibrates on his lap, and he checks it, thankful for the distraction. He smiles when he sees Sansa’s name on his screen. 

**Sansa** : 

_ Remember to breathe. Positive what ifs. You can do this, I believe in you.  _

He lets out a small sigh and types in his answer : _ I wish you could be here guiding me through it _ . He stares at the words and wonders if he should hit send, it feels a little too forward, a little too blunt. His thumb goes back and forth but never hitting send, and his hand shakes a little. 

“You’re okay, Jon?” Lyanna asks her son and Jon shoots her a quick glance before nodding, and locking his phone. He doesn’t need to add more stress on top of his already there stress. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He says, but his knuckles are holding onto his phone tightly and he knows his mom can see it, knows his mom can tell how anxious he feels. 

“Jon… We can always cancel. If you don’t want to see him.. we can always turn back around and go home and have Christmas and New Year’s like every year.” 

For a second, he thinks about it. He thinks about it, saying yes to his mom and turning the car around and going back home, and making Christmas dinner with his mom, and trying to forget that not even two hours away from them, the man who had barely helped bringing him into this world was having a dinner of his own with his other family. He could try, he could try to forget him , his father, and his family. But he knows he couldn’t really shake it off. He needs to see, he needs to see for himself, he needs to meet the people for which his father left his mother and him. So he just shakes his head, looks straight ahead on the road in front of them. 

“No, let’s do this.” 

One of Lyanna’s hands leaves the steering wheel to come and grab his and it’s warm and it helps a little, she’s always known how to comfort him, she’s always been the best person he knows after all. “It takes a lot to do this, Jon, and I’m proud of you for doing it. I know it’s hard, but I am so proud of you for not giving into your anger.” 

Her words hit him and Jon realizes that he’s never really thought in depth about her own feelings regarding the situation. Turning to look at her, he sees the way her jaw is clenched, the way her right hand is holding the steering wheel tightly.  _ She’s nervous too _ , he realizes, and he hates himself for being so selfish and not thinking how this affects her too. His mother, the strongest person he knows, ever since he was a child, she never made him feel like he was missing something or someone. She gave him everything she could, raised him to be the man he is today. Just her doing this, accepting to come with him and meet the people -  _ the woman _ \- for whom his father left them, shows how much of a strong person she is. 

“Thank you mom.” He says, and he gives her hand a little squeeze, and he sees a hint of a smile on the corner of her lips. “I never realized how hard it must be for you too..”

“I gave up a long time ago on hating your father for what he did.” She says.

“What made you stop?” 

There’s a pause and then a bigger smile grows on her lips. “ I held you in my arms twenty one years ago.” 

Jon is not the kind to cry, he’s not, but as he looks at his mother’s smile and her words linger in the air between them, he thinks he just might let a tear fall. 

When Jon had agreed to spend the holidays with his father’s family, he had imagined a grand mansion, the kind with wings and a library with an estate property and whatnot. But in front of him stands a large house yes, but normal-sized he supposes. There is a gate and Lyanna moves the car forward after pushing a button that lets them in. The garden is big, but not big enough that it’s absurdly big. The house seems to have floors but not enough that he’d get lost in it, or at least he doesn’t think so. Lyanna stops the car in the alleyway and Jon’s breath gets caught in his throat. This is it. This is the moment. 

“Will you be alright darling?” Lyanna asks him. 

Jon doesn’t know what to answer. He stares at the house in front of him, sees a woman and a young boy close to his age come out of the house. Part of him wants to scream, and part of him wants to turn the car around and leave but he’s already here. He can’t back down now, that’d make him a coward. And he’s not a coward. He’s anything but a coward. 

“I’ll be fine.” He says to his mom before opening the passenger door and getting out of the car. 

The woman is tall with a slender frame, her glowy tan skin made brighter by the smile she gives them as she walks down to meet them. Her eyes are of a light brown and they have this honesty in them, and something hidden in them too. Her jet black hair are put into a long braid that rests on her shoulder. Jon can’t help but see the similarities between her and who he assumes is her son - his half brother - , they have the same skin tone, although the boy’s a bit lighter, and Jon can see the black roots under the silver tips of the boy’s hair. But it’s their eyes that are the same, the same shade of hazel. 

“Hi!” The woman greets them and her voice is as bright and clear as her smile and it’s warm too, like she’s found a way to capture the warmth of a sunny day. “I’m Elia and this is Aegon!” 

“ _ Ammi _ , I can introduce myself.” Aegon sighs and Jon bites back a laugh while his own mother comes by his side. 

“I’m Lyanna.” Her voice is steady, and the smile she gives Elia is genuine as well, and yes, she truly is the strongest person Jon knows. 

“And I’m Jon.” Handshakes are exchanged and then Elia proceeds to take them inside the house. 

“I’m very sorry we are the one to welcome you in, Rhaenys had a boxing practice and Rhaegar went to pick her up , they should be back soon.” Elia takes them inside, and she then proceeds to give them a tour of the house and indeed, it’s not a big house, but big enough that they need a tour. There’s 4 bedrooms and Jon realizes that he’s going to have to sleep in Aegon’s bedroom, which Jon feels skeptical about, but Aegon seems funny enough that this might not end up in a murder. And he wished he could say Elia’s kindness and bubbliness is an act but it’s not and Jon can tell. It’s in the way her smile reaches her eyes and there’s a warmth emanating from her that Jon can feel from where he is, next to his mom.

“Don’t worry, I don’t snore.” Aegon tells him as they settle in the open kitchen linked to the dining room. He sits on one of the stool and Jon joins him. Elia starts to make some tea, and Jon watches how Elia and his mom seems to not have any tension between them. How can they all be so .. calm? It’s as if they’re meeting old friends, talking and chatting about everyday life like this is a normal situation. Jon’s nerves have died down a little, but they’re still there. “So, you’re in uni right?”

Aegon’s voice takes his attention back to his younger brother. He’s studying Jon too and Jon supposes it must be strange for him too. “Yeah, I’m graduating in the spring hopefully. And you?” 

“Graduating high school in the spring as well. Still have yet to pick a university though.” Aegon shrugs and there’s a strange nonchalance to his demeanor, as if he’s stopped caring a long time ago. “What’s your major?” 

“Creative writing.” 

“Oh, a writer! Do you have anything I can read?” Aegon’s enthusiasm perks up and Jon feels a tiny bit flattered at the attention. 

“Hum, I have a couple of short novels on my laptop but-”

“Can I read them?” Aegon asks but Elia pipes in before Jon can answer.

“Aegon, could you please wait until after dinner to harass poor Jon?” Elia sets a little tray on the kitchen counter with mugs and cookies on it. Aegon rolls his eyes but Elia doesn’t see it as she goes back to the stove and Jon watches as she starts crushing some spices together. 

Aegon leans in closer to him. “ She’s making indian _ chai _ . It’s the best thing you’ll ever have, I swear.”

Jon nods and then once Elia is done, she pours it for everyone, and they fall into a nice, fluid, conversation. For a good minute, Jon almost forgets that this is the people his father left his mom and him for, that this is the family he chose instead of his mom and him. But then, there’s the sound of the front door opening and Jon’s back tenses at the sound and his whole flight mode is activated but he finds himself frozen. He hears laughters and seconds later, he sees a tall man coming in with a young girl. Jon had never seen him, hadn’t even indulged in googling his father’s name, ever, but in the back of his head, on sleepless nights, he had imagined a man with brown eyes and dark hair like his. But the man walking in is tall, with light blue eyes and ashy blonde hair and a slim face. It takes Jon seconds to realize that he looks like his mother, he’s the spitting image of Lyanna and right now, he’s very happy of it. The young girl with Rhaegar is tall too, about Jon’s height and has a sweet round face and dark hair that look exactly like Elia’s. But her eyes and nose and mouth are all Rhaegar’s. She’s wearing gym clothes and her hair is up in a ponytail and she’s play-fighting with Rhaegar as they walk into the kitchen and their laughters echo in Jon’s mind as if a drum is there. 

“Oh we have company!” The young girl says and Jon tries to not look like he wants to leave and he keeps his eyes trained on the young brunette, his half sister. She’s crossing the space to meet them and Jon is immediately dragged in a conversation driven by her, Rhaenys, and her voice is loud and cheerful and there’s a confidence in the way she stands and moves and Jon wonders what’s her secret. Soon enough, she reaches him and she seems to hesitate before pulling him in for a tight hug. And Jon is stunned for a second, so stunned that he barely has time to hug her back before she pulls away and looks at him straight in the eyes, her hands coming to his cheeks. “I’m not the oldest anymore , thank God!” 

Jon doesn’t know what else to do except laughing and as everyone joins them and laughs too, and as he looks around the room and sees his mother’s face, happy, laughing loudly next to Elia, and Aegon and Rhaenys’ huge smiles, and even Rhaegar’s grin, his father’s grin, he thinks this isn’t too bad. For a start, it’s not too bad. 

  
  


Jon takes his travel bag out of the boot and he barely has time to breathe before Rhaegar appears behind him and offers his help. “Here, let me.” 

Rhaegar grabs the bag from his hand and Jon doesn’t have time to hold onto it and he wants to, wants to yank it away, out of this man’s hands, he doesn’t deserve to hold anything that belongs to Jon. But he doesn’t. He just bites his tongue and takes his mom’s bag and closes the boot of the car. He is about to walk past Rhaegar without a single word but he’s not lucky enough that his father would do the same. 

“I..” Rhaegar’s voice shakes and Jon hears it plainly. Jon has his eyes stuck on the ground, not wanting Rhaegar to see his face -  _ he doesn’t deserve that much _ , Jon thinks. “I’m really glad you’re here..”

At that, Jon has to look up however, he has to. He has to see if Rhaegar’s eyes are as since as his voice sounds. So he does, he looks up and stare into those vivid green eyes, and this close he can see some purple hues in them, and he looks, searches for sincerity. More knots find their way to his stomach when he indeed finds them. His throat dry and his tongue tied, he looks down, not willing to let in Rhaegar in on his feelings. His father hasn’t earned that right yet. He walks past the blonde man and goes back inside the house. He blinks back the angry tears on the verge of falling as he climbs the stairs up to the first floor. He walks in the guest room and drops his mom’s bag near the bed. He closes the door behind him and takes a moment alone to himself. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. Elia is nice, a really sweet and kind lady and Jon tries his best to not compare her to his mother; when he had first agreed to come, he had planned on hating them, all of them, and then using that as an excuse to never see them again, but having met them.. god, he couldn’t hate them. Elia is gentle and sweet, and she seems to not hold any grudge to Jon’s mom and just that is enough for Jon. 

Rhaenys and Aegon seem fun and Jon would expect that much from teenagers. Rhaenys is 19 and Aegon is 17 but they seem to hold a child-like personality and Jon will lie saying he doesn’t envy them slightly. He wishes his smile could be as bright as theirs, but their smiles have never known pain or longing for anything, he can see that. He envies them this luck too, but then again, he has his mom and he loves her so much, for everything she’s done for him. But as he’s here, with his father’s family, he can’t help but wonder.. what he would have been like if Rhaegar had stayed with them..

  
  


When he gets to Aegon’s bedroom, he finds the teenager laying a sheet on a small mattress on the floor by the bed - and struggling by the looks of it - , Jon’s travel bag at the end of it. “Oh, I could have done that, you don’t have to..” 

“That’s for me, silly!” Aegon rolls his eyes, panting slightly. “ You’re taking the bed.”

“No, I can’t, it’s your room, I’m already intruding and-”

“You’re not intruding.” Aegon rises and stands straight as he looks at Jon. “You’re  _ not _ intruding. We invited you, did we? We want you here, Jon.” 

Jon bites the inside of his cheek, and blinks back the tears that are here again.  _ Don’t cry, don’t cry.. _ “Don’t you find it weird tho?” He says, his voice shaking. “I mean..” His thought never comes out but Aegon must understand for he nods slowly, his eyes falling to the ground. 

“Yes, it’s a little weird.” And Jon sees it, sees the ghost of a feeling crossing Aegon’s face but it’s gone in a heartbeat before Jon can decipher it. “But honestly, I’m just glad I’m not the only one who has to bear with Rhaenys really.” 

Jon smiles at that, and Aegon’s follows soon after and Jon feels like this might be good. He helps Aegon finishing setting his little bed area and Jon listens to Aegon talking while also looking around at the bedroom. There aren’t many posters on the wall, only two actually, one very graphic and artsy that Jon doesn’t think he’s seen anywhere and another one that has the phrase ‘’ _ i don’t have to justify anything to you _ ” in a funny font, and the colours in the letters go from black to grey to white and purple. Jon wonders about it but he figures it’s a conversation for another time. He has two weeks, hopefully it’ll happen then. 

~~

Christmas at the Starks is a very serious affair. The decorations are laid out right after Halloween, damn those who says it should only be up only starting on the first of december, and for the whole month of december, there’s always something baking or cooking in the Stark household, filling the house with the smell of cinnamon and ginger spices and just everything sweet. 

“Okay so, here’s the plan for today!” Catelyn starts, looking at everyone gathered in the kitchen. Catelyn Stark is a very kind woman, but when it comes to the Christmas meals, she requires for everyone’s help and they all have something to do. Sansa loves the organization, loves that there’s a plan and that everything is timed perfectly, thanks to her mom’s perfect set of organizing skills. “ Ned and Robb you will be in charge of the roasted potatoes and vegetables for the sides. Arya, Bran, you were very good last year on the ham and cranberry sauce so hopefully this year too. Sansa, you’ll do the pies and the pudding, I trust you with them. And I will teach Rickon how to do the turkey this year and the gravy. The timetable is up on the fridge, please, let’s try and not be in the kitchen at all times, so we don’t step on each other and mess it up.” 

Everyone nods and go to the fridge to see when their respective tasks is to be done. Rickon and her mom are to start since the turkey does take the longest time, Sansa pats her little brother on the shoulder before exiting the kitchen. Taking her phone out to set her timer, she sees a couple of texts from Jon, and she doesn’t even fight the smile on her face anymore.

**Jon :**

_ I don’t want to actively kill my father yet so I think I’m good. How are you doing? _

Sansa smiles deeper at that, and lets out a little breath at the thought of Jon possibly liking his father at the end of the break. She’s about to type a reply when she feels someone breathing on her shoulder. She locks her phone and moves away. “Go away, Robb.” She snorts and Robb follows her. 

“Just wondering why my best friend is talking to you about his family problems and not me.” 

Sansa sees his point, but then again, Jon is her friend too now. She shrugs and gives him a mischievous look. “ That sounds like a personal problem, Robb.” 

Robb rolls his eyes at her, but she can see on his face that he’s not going to let this go, part of her wishes he would, just so she wouldn’t feel so anxious about her connection with Jon. It’s .. special, and strong, and it came out of nowhere and she wasn’t prepared for it. Sansa likes spontaneity yes, but this thing with Jon.. it's something else. She takes a seat in the loveseat, ready to look up some sweet pies recipe, but Robb follows her.

“Do you guys like each other?” Robb asks, his voice low, and Sansa appreciates the intent of keeping the conversation just between them, with Bran and Arya just a few feet away. 

Usually, Sansa would have shrugged at the question, told her brother to back off, that when it came to boys, she didn’t need her big brother to come and put his nose in her business. But this time.. it feels different. Something feels different about Jon; something in her tells her it’s not just a friendship, it’s deeper, but she can’t quite pinpoint it yet. She sighs, and shrugs. “I don’t want to say things and get ahead of myself. It .. it just is. we’re talking, that’s all.” 

Robb nods slightly, and Sansa sees the concern in his eyes. She sees what he wants to say but the words never leave his lips and she’s thankful for it. She decides to text back Jon before focusing on finding her recipes. 

**Sansa :**

_ Good, I don’t think you’d do well in jail  _

She spends the next hour saving recipes and making sure to ask her family how they feel about the flavors she picked. Once her mom and Rickon are done in the kitchen, she settles there and start working on her doughs. She’s decided to make three pies, apple, pumpkin and lemon. Fairly easy ones that will suit everyone’s taste, and it relaxes her to work the dough while listening to her dad and Robb talk as they chop the potatoes for the roast. That’s probably why Sansa loves the holidays so much, the feeling of safety and security that she has with her family is just enhanced during this time; she’s missed it when she was in university, she’s missed them all, and coming back home is the best part of the year so far. Moving down to London for school had been tough on her, and if the numerous calls and texts from her parents and Robb were any proof, it had been hard on them too. They’re all so close, a tight knit group, even though they’re all different, but the love they hold for each other is truly unmatched. 

  
  


Two hours later, her pies are done, and she can now breathe a little easier. She’s a little sweaty from all the kneading and the heat from the kitchen so she goes upstairs to take a shower. She’s picking her clothes when her phone vibrates in her pocket. 

**Jon :**

_ I’m not sure how to take that..  _

**Jon :**

_ I think I like having siblings..?  _

Sansa’s smile at the last text and type in a reply quickly. 

**Sansa :**

_ That’s nice to hear !  _

_ Although I think that’s probably because they haven’t stolen any of your clothes yet.. _

The answer is quick to come. 

**Jon:**

_ Oh, so that’s not a myth..  _

**Sansa :**

_ It’s not, just wait till you’re looking for a shirt and never find it again.. _

**Jon:**

_ Oh boy.. I’m not sure they’ll fit Aegon’s small frame but I guess it’ll do.. _

**Sansa :**

_ I didn’t take you as a big guy.. Creative Writing majors workout now? _

**Jon:**

_ We don’t just exercise our mind.. _

Sansa bites her lip, her mind wandering to Jon and the idea of him working out, doing push ups or pull ups, brings a little flush to her cheeks. She’s never seen him but she imagines he has abs, defined but not too much, sweat dripping off of his toned chest; she imagines his hair wet - does he have curly or straight hair? she wonders - sticking to his face as he works out. Sansa sighs, unconsciously bringing her legs together, her mind running wild with thoughts of Jon. Her head is slightly spinning, and maybe that’s why she texts back, quickly, before the more rational side of hers can stop her. 

**Sansa:**

_ Now that’s something I’d like to see _

Her bottom lip hurts from the strain she puts on it, but the answer she gets releases a tiny bit of the tension. 

**Jon :**

_ I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve I could show you.. _

Sansa feels the air around her switching and she lets out a little moan at the thought of Jon showing her “his tricks”. She lets her mind wander and she tries to imagine Jon, how he looks, how his hands would feel on her, how-

“Sansa!” Her mother’s voice brings her back to reality and Sansa groans. “Dinner’s ready in 30!” 

With a heavy sigh, Sansa gets up from her bed, ready to take a shower. A very cold shower. 

~~

Jon smirks a little at his last text to Sansa. He wonders if this falls under the flirting category. Especially with someone he has technically never seen. Jon doesn’t have the best history with dating; his last two girlfriend were.. not the best experiences he’s had. He’d rather forget about them altogether if he’s honest. But they taught him things about himself, about who he is in a relationship and what he wants, and most importantly, what he doesn’t. 

“What’s the smirk for, Jon?” Rhaenys teases. She’s crouched down on the floor of Aegon’s bedroom, painting her toenails a vibrant red colour. There’s a vinyl record playing in the room, giving the room a soft aesthetic reinforced by the fairy lights pinned to the walls. Aegon is lying on his own bed, reading a book, while Jon is sitting on the little window seat. “Are you talking to a girl?” 

“Rhaenys..” There’s a warning in Aegon’s voice and something tells Jon that he’s had this conversation with his older sister before. Rhaenys rolls her eyes, not even answering Aegon’s comment.

“Yes I’m talking to a girl.” Jon answers and his cheeks flush a little. 

“Oooh!” Rhaenys stops her movements to look up a him. “Your girlfriend?” 

“No no, she’s..” Jon sighs, trying to ignore the little pang in his chest as he says those words. “She’s my best friend’s sister.” 

“Ooooh! Do you like her?” Rhaenys asks again, and Jon sees the glint in her eyes, the curiosity basically dripping out of her and that’s what he meant by him liking the fact of his siblings, even step siblings. This feeling of belonging to something, something bigger than him. He’s never had this before, and he likes it, likes the energy of it all. Tonight is Christmas Eve and he had proposed to help Elia and his mom prepare the food, but they had sent the kids out of the kitchen in a heartbeat. And now he’s just spending time with his siblings, enjoying their company. 

“I don’t know.. We’ve only started to talk recently.” 

“”Attraction doesn’t depend on time.” Rhaenys shrugs, closing her nail polish pot. 

“Doesn’t it though?” Jon retorts. “ Don’t I need to see her to actually feel things?” He sees the look Aegon and Rhaenys share, like they can communicate just through their eyes, and again, Jon wishes he had grown with that, wishes he had someone to be that close with. “What?” 

“Attraction isn’t just physical, Jon.” Aegon says, clearing his throat and Jon feels something hidden in there. “You can love someone for what they make you feel, without ever seeing them. You don’t need looks to fall in love with someone.” 

There’s a silence, and it’s a little heavy, both Rhaenys and Jon are looking at Aegon and Jon sees the tension in his little brother’s body. With a sigh, Aegon gets up to grab his laptop from his desk. A few clicks later, he brings the laptop to Jon’s lap. “Here’s some reading.” Aegon goes back to his bed, back to his book and a second later, Rhaenys is back to talking about something else entirely, while Jon starts reading a kindle book titled _ All About Demisexuality.  _

It’s close to midnight, only twenty minutes till Christmas, and Jon doesn’t think he can move from his seat. He’s used to eat spicy food, sure, and the typical english mashed potatoes that Elia made helped his taste buds recover in between sets, but the indian food she made.. So spicy, so delicious, so tasty, Jon loves it so much, and that’s probably why he never truly meant each of his  _ no _ when she asked him if he wanted another serving, and that’s probably why she still helped him to another plate. And it’s definitely why he feels like he can’t move now. He’s so full. And they haven’t even had dessert. The rest of the group has moved to the living room, except for Rhaegar who’s on washing the dishes duty, and Jon who’s still mourning his stomach. 

The dining room and the kitchen being connected, the two men are the only ones left behind. Jon doesn’t think much of it, he’s managed to avoid his father so far - it’s only been two days but still - , so Jon doesn’t think much of it and just lets his head sink to the table, between his arms. The air is not tense or uncomfortable, and Jon tries to not think about the fact that his father is only a few feet away, tries to focus on the sound of his mother’s laugh in the next room, mixed with Aegon’s booming voice and Elia’s happy tune. He can hear a camera clicking and he wonders if Rhaenys is taking pictures. Gosh, he hopes she doesn’t wander back in the kitchen and photograph how he is right now. He can already see the title she would give it “  _ Jon almost passed out after his first indian christmas _ ”. He would never live it down. 

A glass hits the surface of the table, and Jon raises his head slightly, his eyes are a little glossy and he has to blink a few times to focus and see the glass placed in front of him. A liquid fills the bottom, its amber colour looking rather inviting. Jon focuses on that, and not on Rhaegar taking the seat in front of him. 

“Amaro.” Rhaegar says. “A digestive that may not cure your current food coma completely, but it tastes good.” 

“I’m fine.” Jon mumbles, but he still reaches for the glass. The smell is strong, and he supposes tasting it wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite strong, but it does taste good, it burns his throat slightly when the after taste hits him and he pulls a face when it does, and Rhaegar lets out a little laugh. 

“You don’t have to like it.” The blonde man says and Jon pushes the glass further away from him. 

“Good, ‘cause I really don’t.” Jon admits. He sits straighter in his chair, and looks up at his father. They’re both staring at each other, but it’s not a staring contest, just two men trying to figure out each other. “How are you not bigger from Elia’s food?” Jon dares to ask. 

Rhaegar shrugs, a soft smile on his lips. Jon doesn’t know if it’s because of the wine and the amaro or just because he loves Elia. “Twenty years of eating it will get you used to anything. You’ll get used to it too. ” 

“Is it always this good?” Jon asks. 

“Always. But she made it extra good tonight. For Lyanna and you.” 

Jon’s eyes lower to his glass, on the table. “How is she so okay with .. all of this?” 

To this, Rhaegar sighs and pours himself another dose of liquor. He silently asks Jon, who declines. “ Elia.. has a lot of kindness in her heart, too much kindness really.” Rhaegar moves his glass, swirls the liquid in circles, his eyes set on the amber liquor. “ I wouldn’t have been good to your mom, Jon.” 

“You don’t know that.” Jon says, and he wants to stop himself from speaking again, but he can’t. Biting his tongue, holding his thoughts..that’s not how he was raised. “ You didn’t stick around long enough to know that.” 

Rhaegar holds his gaze for a few minutes. “I wouldn’t have been a good father to you, Jon. That, I know.” 

“Aegon and Rhaenys turned out fine.” There’s a lump in Jon’s throat and he wills himself to blink back the tears forming. 

“That’s mostly Elia. I promise you. At first I didn’t know what I was doing half of the time. But I tried. I’m still trying.” 

Jon watches him, and he tries to imagine, he tries to imagine what his upbringing could have been if Rhaegar had stayed, if Rhaegar had tried for him. Would he be as open minded as Rhaenys? Would he be as sensitive as Aegon? Would he be happy like them? Would he have known true, genuine happiness? Would he have known the true definition of a family? Of home? 

“Why couldn’t you try with me?” Jon hates how his voice breaks at the end of his sentence, and he wipes the tear on his cheek as soon as it escapes his eye. 

“I’m trying now.” Rhaegar says and Jon doesn’t know if his eyes are failing him or if it’s his own tears blurring his vision. “I’m trying now, but I understand if you don’t want to try with me. I don’t deserve-” 

“I’ll try.” The words fly out of Jon’s mouth before he can stop himself, before he can think. “I .. I’d like to try.” He lets out a long breath and lets the few tears his eyes hold fall on his cheeks. “I can’t promise I’ll be the best son but I’d like to try.” 

“I don’t need you to be the best, Jon. Just yourself.” Rhaegar says and the tear falling on his father’s cheek isn’t a dream or an hallucination. “Maybe then, with time, you can forgive me.” 

“I-” 

“Merry Christmas!” Aegon’s voice seems to echo throughout the whole house, and soon enough, the teenager is running inside the dining room, and to Jon’s surprise, comes to Jon first, and brings him up to engulf him a bone crushing hug. “Merry Christmas Jon!” 

Jon hugs him back, a smile forming on his face. “Merry Christmas Aeg’!” 

Aegon pulls away , a grimace on his face. “ Oh no please, not you too..” He rolls his eyes and then mumbles something as he goes over to their father. He doesn’t question why Rhaegar has tears streaming down his face, and Jon doesn’t have time to watch their hug, as he’s attacked from behind by Rhaenys who jumps on his back and almost chokes him but he’s quick to grab her legs to steady her. 

“Merry Christmas big brother!” She tells him and she assaults his cheeks and Jon doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed on the cheek this hard ever. And maybe that’s why his heart flutters a little in his chest, because he’s never been kissed this hard on the cheek, and not because Rhaenys called him  _ big brother _ . No, it’s not about that. 

Then it’s Elia’s turn to hug him, once Rhaenys has settled on the floor again and she’s squeezed Jon’s sides enough that they hurt slightly, and Elia’s hug is more gentle, really mother-like and she says something to him in hindi, and somehow, he understands, and it’s strange because he’s never spoken hindi, doesn’t know the language, but somehow, he understands. And then Lyanna, his mom, and she’s here, standing with her glass of wine, watching him, waiting for her turn and he smiles when he sees her and he’s the one going to her this time and he’s the one reaching out to hug her and he holds her tight, close to him and he buries his face in her neck. She has one hand on his back and the other one on the back of his head, gently rubbing his hair and he feels like he’s eight again, and she’s soothing him after he’s had a nightmare and it works. His tears dry as he holds her, as he whispers  _ thank you _ to her skin, just for her to hear, just for her to know. 

~~

It’s late at night, close to 2 am but Sansa is still awake, her nose in a book, as per usual. Her family has gone to bed hours ago, dinner had been good, great really, the food was delicious, and she was so full on turkey that she had only had two slices of lemon pie. A record for her. And ever since her mom had declared that everyone should be going to bed to be fully rested for tomorrow, Sansa has been lying in her bed, reading yet another romantic book of her collection. In truth, she isn’t really reading, her eyes are barely focusing on the words in front of her; all her brain can think of right now is Jon. She had spent a good part of the evening thinking about him, wondering how his Christmas dinner went. She hopes he’s fine. 

As if on cue, her phone rings and she grabs it immediately when she sees Jon’s name on the screen. “Jon!” She chirps, but then quickly covers her mouth, hoping none of her siblings heard her. “Hi!” She says, on a much more normal tone. 

“Hey Sansa.” His voice is low, husky and she wonders if he has drunk a little or if he’s just tired. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” 

“No, no I wasn’t sleeping, don’t worry.” 

“How come?” She hears ruffling on his side, and a click. “It’s quite late.” 

“Just been reading.” She says, biting her lip. It’s a lie, and she hates lying but she can’t see herself telling him she’s been thinking about him for hours now. Just the thought of doing so makes her blush. “How about you?”

“We just finished dinner, somehow.” He chuckles and she likes hearing it. It makes her heart flutter a little. “ Elia cooked, and I think I’m going to be fat at the end of this holiday.” 

Sansa laughs. “ If what you eat doesn’t make you the tiniest bit fat, then it’s not worth it Jon.” 

“Yeah but I still have to look good, Sansa.” 

“Oh, you’re having a modelling contest coming up soon?” She jokes, lying back on her back, popping her feet on her wall. 

“No, but who knows, I might meet someone..” His voice trails off, and she hears the way he takes in a sharp breath. For a second, she tries to imagine him, like she’s been for hours now. She imagines him, leaning against a wall. She wonders if his hair is short or long, if it’s long does he tie it ? Or does he let it loose? 

“Reminds me that I’ve actually never seen you.” She lets out, more to herself. 

“And I have never seen you. And yet we talk everyday.” Jon says and Sansa hears the smile at the end of his voice.

“And yet we talk every day.” Sansa repeats his words. “Funny how that turned out really.” 

“Funny indeed. But I like it a lot.” He pauses for a second. “I really like talking to you, Sansa.” 

Sansa would squeal, jump, exclaim in joy, but she doesn’t, not sure if it’s because her heart stops for a good few seconds or because she’s forgotten how to breathe. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, a full on grin, and she wants to stop, but she can’t. It feels like her whole body is floating, like she’s not even on her bed anymore. It’s like she’s on a cloud, she can’t remember the last time she felt this giddy, this happy , this-

“Sansa?” Jon’s voice brings her back to reality. “You’re still here?” 

“Yes, yes, I am, sorry, I huh.. Yeh I’m here.” She clears her throat. “ I like talking to you too Jon.” She hears a heavy sigh on Jon’s end and she can almost picture a smile on his lips- somehow she can almost feel his breath on her skin. God, how she wishes she knew what he looked like. “I feel like I could talk to you all the time. It’s oddly comforting.” 

“Glad to hear I’m not the only one who feels that way. Talking to you.. it eases me.” Another pause. “More than I care to admit.” 

“Me too, Jon, me too.” Sansa confesses in return. And it’s like something shifts, and she’s not just talking to a friend of her brother now. In all honesty, it hasn’t felt that way in days, but now the feeling truly settles in her, and it’s like a puzzle coming together slowly. “How was your Christmas dinner by the way? I take it it went well?”

“Yes, it did.” Jon answers quietly. “ The food was delicious, amazing, Elia is gifted in the kitchen that’s for sure. And I think I even made peace with my father. Or at least, I’m in the right direction to.” 

“I’m so glad to hear that Jon. I really am.” Sansa smiles, her heart growing another size at his words. 

“It makes me.. relieved in a way. I feel lighter.” 

“That’s some of the anger and resentment leaving you. That’s a good thing. You made the right decision in going there and meeting them.” 

“All thanks to you.” 

“I only advised you, you chose to listen to me.” 

“I wish I had you advising me on everything.” He sighs. “Maybe my life would be better.” 

“That can be arranged. I’m only a call or a text away.” 

“So I can call you for anything?” 

“Any advice you need, I’m here for you.” 

“And if I just want to talk to you?” 

She gasps a little, faintly , and she hopes he can’t hear it. “Yes, that too.” Feeling her heart racing again, she quickly pushes the feeling away, clearing her throat. “And your siblings? Do you get along with them?” 

“I do, I really like them. They’re.. wonderful. Something tells me you’d like Aegon, he’s very kind and gentle, but he has a sassy side to him that is very endearing. And Rhaenys, she’s a firecracker, it takes a lot to keep up with her, but she called me big brother today so I guess I’m adopted. And Elia, gosh Sansa, I really don’t know how someone can be so strong, I mean, can you imagine..”

He talks about Elia, and how well she’s taking this, and how welcoming she is to his mother, and him, and Sansa smiles as she listens to him talk. She wasn’t lying earlier, she’s glad to hear he’s doing so well. She can hear his smile, she can picture him as he tells her stories after stories of his new extended family. And it strikes her like lightning in a storm. As she laughs and smiles and as he smiles and laughs, she realizes, she’s falling for him. She’s falling for Jon Snow. 

~~

On Christmas Day, Jon wakes up to an empty room, but he can hear chatter downstairs, and he finds himself enjoying that. A smile creeps up on his face as he hears Rhaenys’s laugh and he hears Aegon’s voice trying to come through and he can hear his mom’s voice too. But it’s only when he comes downstairs and sees them all, sees them all laughing, and he leans against the wall, appreciating the view that he finds himself happy. Happy seems too small of a word to express the joy he’s been feeling but, that’s all he can think of. Happy. He’s happy. And when Elia comes and hugs him and wishes him a happy christmas, he can only nods and repeat the words back to her. And when he meets his mom’s eyes and when he sees how happy they are, how much they match her smile, he thinks yes, happy christmas indeed. 

~~

Sansa hugs Robb tightly against her. “Promise me you’ll call.” At this, Robb only hugs tighter, if it’s possible. 

“You know I will.” He whispers against her hair. He’s taller than her, by a good few inches, but he buries his face in her neck. Her big brother, her first best friend, her hero. “You take care of yourself, okay?” 

People are passing them by in the train station and it’s only when the announcement for Sansa’s train comes that they dare to part. But he still keeps an arm around her. Even when he puts her suitcase on the train. And when she has to let him go, because her train is about to leave, and when she looks at him through the window as the train starts to go, and he waves at her and she waves back, and she sees the tears in his eyes, she tells herself that she’ll call him tonight, and they’ll plan something to do during spring break. Maybe she’ll go to Leeds and surprise him, or maybe he’ll come down to London. Maybe. She tells herself that it’s kind of sad that her best friend is her brother, but then again she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

~~

Jon opens the door to his dorm room and is surprised to see Robb already there. And he’s even more surprised when he finds Robb, sitting in his revolving chair. At Jon’s entrance, Robb turns to him, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes narrow on Jon’s frame and for a second Jon wants to laugh at how dramatic it is, but Robb has an inkling for the theatrics, Jon has told him he should’ve been a drama major multiple times. To which Robb had answered that he’d rather do good by defending people than entertaining them. 

“So. You’ve been talking to my sister.” Robb says. 

Jon closes the door behind himself and drops his bag. “ Happy New Year to you too, bud.” Jon sheds his jacket off and hangs it on the little rack by their door. “How was your holiday?” 

“I’m sure you know how it went considering you talked to my sister through it all.” 

Jon sighs and goes to sit on his bed. The train ride had been long and he hadn’t managed to sleep through it, thanks to the baby who had decided to cry through the whole trip. “Just say what you really want to say, Robb.” Jon says as he kicks his shoes off. 

Robb’s face changes a little and his whole act falls. He’s now studying Jon with careful eyes. Jon isn’t really good at reading people, has trouble reading himself really, and three weeks ago, it would have been impossible for him to decipher the feeling in Robb’s eyes. But now, after so many late night talks with Rhaenys and Aegon, after reading the book Aegon recommended him, after hearing Rhaenys talk about her past relationship which was abusive - hence the boxing lessons - , Jon gets it. He sees it in Robb’s eyes, because he feels it too. The protectiveness, the need to make sure they’re okay. At all cost.

“Do you like her?” Robb asks. “Like.. Do you really like her?”

Jon doesn’t need to think before he answers. “ I do. I really do.” 

Robb nods slowly. “ She’s a nice girl, Jon. I’m not just saying that because she’s my sister. She has a big heart. Don’t break it. Because I like you, you’re my best friend too, but she’s my baby sister and I love her.” 

It’s Jon’s turn to nod. “I get it. And I won’t hurt her. Ever. I promise.” 

“You better not.” Robb gets up and ruffles Jon’s curls. “Because I’d hate to break your pretty face.”

Jon chuckles but he knows Robb isn’t joking. When Rhaenys had told him about her ex-boyfriend hitting her, when he had seen the tears in her eyes recalling the memories, when she had sobbed in his arms afterwards, he had wanted to find the bastard and make sure he’d never hit anyone ever again. Rhaenys is only 19, and he can’t imagine her being put down, not with how confident she always seems to be, not with how bright her smile always is. But in these two weeks, Jon has learned a lot and the most important lesson is that the brightest smile hides the most broken things. 

“So, how was meeting your father?” 

Jon inhales deeply and leans back against the wall, crossing his feet under him. He thinks back on the last couple of weeks, how strange they were, how tense he had felt at first, how he had learned that sometimes things, situations , people aren’t always what they seem. It had taken him late night talks with his siblings, learning how to cook with Elia, working out with his father and Rhaenys, to see his mother smiling and laughing with Elia to realize that. He had learned that yes, Rhaegar had left his mother, pregnant with Jon , but it didn’t mean he hadn’t loved her at some point, and it didn’t mean that this was Lyanna’s or Jon’s fault. No. Not at all. 

“It was good. His family is.. They’re amazing.” Jon is surprised at how good the truth feels on his tongue. 

“They are?” Robb smiles and Jon nods, smiling too. 

“Yes, they really are. It felt strange at first, I’m not going to lie, but.. they just welcomed my mom and I so fast, I .. I wanted to be angry, I wanted to be angry so bad Robb, but I couldn’t. I was with them and they seemed to be so happy, I .. I wanted to be happy too.” _ I want to be happy too _ , he thinks. 

“Aaaaaww,” Robb coos, “it’s so sweet.”

“Don’t aaw me.” Jon rolls his eyes when Robb’s grin doesn’t fade. “I just.. I don’t want to hold onto anger anymore.” 

“That’s good, Jon.” Robb gets up and his hand falls on Jon’s shoulder and gives it a little squeeze. “I’m really happy for you. Really. You deserve to be happy.” 

It’s not the first time Robb has told him that in their four years of sharing a dorm room, but it must be the first time Jon actually believes him. Because maybe he does after all. He thinks of Aegon and how sensitive he is but how open minded he is about the world, he thinks of Rhaenys and her bubbly personality that even a shitty boyfriend couldn’t dim. He thinks of Elia and how bright she shines, how kind she is at all times, of Rhaegar who’s trying to be a good father, a good man, who’s really trying. He thinks of his mom, his perfect mom, and how happy she looked during this holiday. He thinks of Robb and how happy he looks now, how healthy and confident he looks. Jon smiles at him and goes to unpack, while Robb tells him about his holidays - even though Jon already knows everything, thanks to Sansa. Sansa.. He thinks of Sansa and how he loves her laugh and her voice, and how he loves talking to her, and how happy she makes him. And he thinks yes, maybe he does deserve to be happy. 

~~

Sansa claps as she watches her brother collect his diploma and shake hands with his dean. Her whole family is clapping, her father the loudest, Bran even whistles and Rickon is jumping up and down, finally able to let some energy out. Robb being the first one to graduate in their family, so obviously they all had to come up to Leeds and be there for him. Sansa wouldn’t have missed this day for the world. It had been a long drive from London to Leeds and she had done half of the journey by train before her father picked her up in Sheffield. This was yesterday, and she still felt a little tired but she knows she’d be able to get some sleep back home, in her own bed tonight, before going back to London tomorrow. She still has some exams and assignments to hand out but she’ll be okay. She needs to be here today. It came to her suddenly, like she had been struck by lightning, when Robb told her the date of his graduation. She knew she had to be there, otherwise she’d regret it. She doesn’t know why, but it was like an instinct. 

She finds out why later, when Robb is hugging their mom and their father is wiping his teary eyes and Robb is showing his diploma proudly and he’s grinning like he’s just walked on the moon and she’s smiling too when something behind her brother catches her eyes. 

He has curly hair, dark curly hair the color of burnt coal, it’s short and it’s styled to the side but there are some wild curls poking up and she loves it already. There’s a bit of scruff on his jawline and somehow she knows how it feels under her fingertips. He’s tall, and muscular but still lean and she knows how his eyes feel looking down on her. She can’t see his eyes, but she knows they’re a dark shade of grey, like a stormy sky in summer, and his smile.. He’s smiling at a smaller woman, and she has dark hair and her back is facing Sansa, and there are other people surrounding him. Two teenagers, and another couple, and Sansa thinks  _ his family _ and she doesn’t know how, but  _ she knows  _ . It’s Jon. Her Jon. The Jon she’s been talking to every night for the last six months. The Jon she has fallen for without thinking about it, it’s clear to her now, as she looks at him from across the room. And somehow, she’s seen him before, and it’s impossible because she hasn’t, but she knows she has. She looks at him and she knows how his voice sounds inches away from her ear, she knows how hot his skin is at the touch, she knows how his eyes look in the morning when he’s just woken up. All of her knows him, knows how he tastes under her tongue, how his hair feels between her fingers, all of her knows him. Her soul recognizes this man, like a child knows his best toy in the pile of a hundred. 

Suddenly, his gaze shifts and now he’s looking at her, and she gasps slightly. How long has she been staring at him ? Her eyes are on her and she sees recognition crossing his face and his body turns to her, and it’s like a pull, she wants to take a step, she wants to run across the room and jump in his arms and never let it go, she wants to hold him close to her until there’s no air left between them and she can’t tell where he ends and she starts. She doesn’t, even though her body, her heart, her whole soul is yearning to cross the distance between them. She doesn’t. But he does. 

~~

Jon lets Rhaenys crush his bones into the tightest hug and kiss his cheek. “Congratulations, big brother!” He smiles and he almost feels his cheeks heat up at the nickname. He is still not used to it, even though they talk on the phone a lot and she always says _ goodbye big brother _ at the end of each call, and his heart tightens a little each time. Aegon is grinning too, standing behind Elia, his head on her shoulder as they both watch Jon. Rhaegar is here too and the smile he bores is a proud one, and Jon will lie if he says it doesn’t make him proud too. They’re all here, they’ve all driven hours to see him graduate college and he’s genuinely happy. 

“I’m so proud of you!” Lyanna says, her hands on each side of his face. “ My baby is a writer!” 

“Mom, please!” Jon says, rolling his eyes but his chest fills with pride and joy. “Plus, you need to be published to be a writer!” He adds. 

“But you  _ are  _ published!” Aegon pipes in. “ We don’t buy a new frame to print just about anyone’s short story in the paper, I’ll have you know!” 

Jon shuts his eyes and holds back a laugh. “You framed it?” 

“Of course!” Rhaegar says. “ I made everyone at the office buy the newspaper and read it!” 

Jon smiles brightly. “Thanks, you didn’t have to.” 

“I wanted to.” Rhaegar squeezes Jon’s shoulder. “ We’re all very proud of you.” The words warm Jon more than he can admit and he listens to his family - the word still feels weird on his tongue - as they talk but something pulls him away. Like a magnet, like instinct, like .. fate. 

And that’s when he sees her. 

She’s watching him, her blue eyes set on him, she has red hair, bright like a burning fire, and she’s beautiful and she’s here and she’s .. she’s his. The realization comes to him like lightning breaking the sky. It’s Sansa. His Sansa. And it’s new, fresh, unspoiled air entering his lungs, and he breathes a little easier, and there’s a weight off his shoulder and it feels like he could fly, how light he feels right then. She holds his gaze and Jon needs to see her, closer, he needs to touch her, know she’s real, he needs to know it’s not his imagination playing tricks on him. 

“I’ll be right back.” He says quickly and he doesn’t wait for an answer as he starts walking towards Sansa.  _ To her, always to her _ , a voice in his mind says and the closer he gets, he sees snowflakes falling around her, and he can taste ashes in his mouth for some reason, but he pushes it away and just walks, or maybe he’s running, he can’t be sure. All he knows is he’s not going fast enough because she’s still far away and he can’t reach her yet and oh. 

Oh. 

There she is. 

She’s looking up at him and her eyes are bluer than anything he’s ever seen, and he can feel her breath on his face and it all fits. She’s here, he’s here, they’re looking at each other and it’s the most wonderful thing, like the planets are all aligned and the universe worked for this moment to happen. It all fits. 

“Hi. I’m Jon.” He lets out and he comes out so small and for a second he wonders if she hears him because she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t answer right away and he thinks maybe she doesn’t know, maybe she doesn’t want to talk to him. But then a smile breaks on her face, and wow, it’s the most beautiful sight Jon has ever had the chance to witness in his life. His heart flutters in his chest and he thinks he might need to get that checked. 

“I know.” She says. “I’m Sansa.” 

It’s his turn to smile. “I know.” 

And it’s all he can say right now, all he can say without spilling the contents of his heart to her in a second. Something tells him he doesn’t have to, something tells him that she knows, it’s in the way she looks at him, it’s in the way she looks at him, like he could bear his soul to her - more than he’s already done in the six months they’ve been talking if that’s possible - and she’d let him. It’s in the way she grabs his hand, later when they found a quiet place to talk more, and they don’t even do that, they just stare at each other and smile, and she grabs his hand, and lace her fingers through his, and her breathing slows down slightly, Jon knows, he knows because his does too and his heart is at ease, and everything is perfect. She’s staring at their hand joined together, and lets out a shy laugh. 

“I’m sorry, I just.. I couldn’t help it.” She says, and she looks up at him with those big blue eyes and Jon thinks he’d rather go blind than ever have to see her leave. “I can’t believe this is real. I’ve waited so long for this.. for you.” 

Jon lets out a happy sigh and brushes a few strands of hair out of her face. “I’ve been waiting for you too.” 

And she smiles at him, bigger and it all makes sense, everything in the worlds makes sense. As long as her hand is in his, and she’s with him, he’ll never let her go, he knows that much. And that’s how they go through their life, as this unit, this team, and they never stop. Not even when they move in together after two years of being together and their apartment is small but it feels like a home and it’s theirs and he gets a publishing deal after interning for this publishing company and she’s working with a very famous art gallery in London after she graduates and both their job is demanding but they still make time for each other. They don’t stop being a team, not even when they’ve been married for two years and the little things they used to love become annoying because at the end of the day, it makes them them, it’s at the core of who they are and they wouldn’t have it any other way. They never stop, not even when the baby is crying and Sansa is exhausted and Jon has a deadline and it’s his turn to feed their daughter. They never stop. Their love has come too far to stop, not now, not ever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have another jonsa fanfic planned for sometime soon so stay tuned for that :) come chat with on tumblr @ paperskiess or twitter @ paperskieszion ! thank you !

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated ! twitter : @iswa_mam ; tumblr @shesgotherown , come chat with me please !


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